The Gift Part Two
by cackles the witch
Summary: Sequel to The Gift. With Voldemort back, Sirius, Remus & his daughter Sophie struggle to find their place in a changing world. From OotP & beyond. RLNT, SBOC, not slash. AU with bits of canon. Better & more involved than the summary. Chapter 21 up.
1. Chapter 1: Beholden Unto Thee

**A/N:**This story continues _**The Gift**_. The first chapter explains how Sophie came to live with Remus all those years ago. For those who haven't read _The Gift_, this story may be hard to follow. Don't let that discourage you, though, I'll try to make it new reader friendly.

As always, reviews are welcome. Don't be shy.

**Disclaimer:**Anything you recognize belongs to Miss Rowling. No harm or profit is intended by its use.

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**Chapter 1**: Beholden Unto Thee 

_One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love_.

Sophocles

_November 1981…_

Remus paced the length of the sitting room, strewn with broken remnants of the small cottage crunching underfoot. He was oblivious to the fresh cuts on the soles of his feet, unaware of the bloody trail he'd left around the small room. He was much too numb to feel any physical pain.

It had been a week since he'd experienced the loss of three of his closest friends and had realized the betrayal of the fourth. The pain and grief had him still firmly in its grip, emotions jerking him one way, tugging him another like a marionette tethered to a cruel puppeteer. He was alone. His parents were gone, James and Lily were dead, Peter had been blown literally to bits and Sirius – he couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around what Sirius had done, what he had turned out to be – a _Death Eater_.

A week ago he had been living in London under the same roof as his perfidious mate, completely oblivious to the truth. The thought that he had been so close yet hadn't suspected a thing was eating away at him. The awareness that James and Lily were gone and that little Harry was suddenly an orphan ripped his insides to shreds.

He still couldn't believe it. It simply couldn't be true. But it was. Sirius had been in league with Voldemort. He'd led them all to believe he was nothing like his family, all the while betraying the Order and hiding who he really was. At least that's what Remus' sense told him. His heart, however, was telling him something different.

_He loved James like a brother_._There's no way in the world he would sell him out. No way. Never_.

The constant tug of war between his head and his heart was slowly driving him mad. They were at odds and he doubted a year, a dozen years, would change that. He just didn't know how to live with it. It was hard enough for Remus to be constantly pulled in two directions as a werewolf and a man, he wondered how he would survive his psyche being furthered fragmented by his own misgivings.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror by the front door and realized he was still wearing the same clothes he'd put on a week ago, dingy grey and slightly tattered, but it was all the clothes he had. All of his meager belongings were still in the flat he'd shared with Sirius. The only things he had in his parents' house were bits of childhood memorabilia. He was dimly aware of the need to push himself out of this space in his head where he'd been stuck for the last week (which felt, to him, infinitely longer) but the thought of stepping foot in that flat, seeing Sirius' things scattered about, Harry's stuffed rabbit still sitting on the kitchen table where Lily had forgotten it just before she and James and the baby went into hiding, was too much for him. He wanted to scream, tear out his hair in frustration, scratch at every scab on his body until they bled, just to feel something – anything – different, and he could leave this place, leave all the pain behind. He was tired and he wanted it to be over, the emotions that choked him, making it hard to breathe, to think, to feel, but the lycan part of him wouldn't allow it. The werewolf inside had the desire to live, even if the man that housed him had given up.

As he considered whether life was worth living anymore, a knock at the door caused him to jump. It wasn't the usual knock he'd been ignoring from concerned Order members dropping round to check on him. No, this knock was more urgent, demanding. He tried to ignore it but it persisted. Finally, frustrated, angry and wanting to be left alone, he wrenched the door open, ready to blast whoever was on the other side, and was shocked by the sight before him. Eris Sloane stood on his doorstep, her cloak wrapped around a cumbersome bundle in her arms.

"Hello, Remus," she said in a serious tone.

He blinked. _This can't be_, he told himself but she was still standing in front of him.

"May I come in?" she asked, shifting the weighty bundle over her shoulder.

He didn't know how to respond. A part of him wanted to tell her piss off, but another part of him was mildly curious about her sudden appearance. Distracted for a moment from his own grief, he stepped aside and let her in.

"I heard about Peter, Lily and James," she said softly as he shut the door, "I'm sorry."

He flinched at the mention of their names, sounding foreign coming out of her mouth. The resentment he'd been secretly harbouring for the girl who broke his heart came flooding back.

"What do you want?" he spat out, not bothering to restrain the emotion.

She turned to face him as she stood in the middle of the battered room. The sympathetic look on her face seemed to vanish, replaced by a cold glare. "I needed to see you," she said, the sympathy gone.

He noted how quickly she'd shed the caring façade. _Just like old times_, he thought bitterly. Still, his curiousity, though somewhat detached, had grown.

Why?" he demanded in a harsh, suspicious tone.

She looked at him, suddenly hesitant, then gestured towards the settee with her free hand. "May I?"

He looked at her, half – incredulous, half – exasperated. When he didn't answer, she stepped further into the room and gently laid the bundle in her arms upon the worn velvet cushions. She stood over it for a moment, her back to him. He felt his impatience grow.

Suddenly wishing her gone, he trampled over the splintered wood on the floor and grabbed her by the arm. "You need to go!" he exclaimed as he spun her around but any other words died in his throat as his realized they weren't alone. The parcel she'd placed on the settee wasn't a parcel at all, but a young child – a girl.

Remus felt a dull jolt of shock as he laid his eyes upon the sleeping child, who looked no more than five years old. Her hair was a tawny brown and her face reminded him of an antique doll, small and pale with perfect apple cheeks and a tiny button nose.

"Who is that?" he asked as his eyes roamed over her.

"Sophie," Eris answered, then waited for him to look her in the eyes, "she's your daughter."

_Daughter?_ The word punctured the hazy bubble in his head, like a hard slap in the face.

Remus looked from Eris to the child, who looked very unlike her, with confusion. "What?" he asked incredulously. _Surely_, he thought, _she's lost her mind_.

"She's four," she stated, her voice barely above a whisper, "Born October 31st, 1977, exactly _nine_ months after we slept together for the first time. She's yours."

"That's not possible," he hissed, "There's no way." He felt resentment growing at the timing of her cruel ruse. _Surely it has to be a ruse_, he thought.

Eris stepped towards him, her eyes boring into his in challenge. "It's not _supposed_ to be," she said with a bitter edge to her voice, "but it is." Her face became distorted with disgust. "My parents _forced_ me to have her," she went on in a harsh whisper, "a punishment for betraying… for betraying the family name." She stepped away from the little girl and began to pace the room. "They probably thought it would kill me, so they wouldn't have to do anything themselves, you know, I'd be punished for my own deeds."

Her words only partially registered in Remus' mind, which was flooding with more and more questions.

"How…?" He groped for words but nothing came. Eris, however, anticipated his next question.

"I don't know," she breathed, then closed her eyes and turned away.

They stood in deafening silence for some time, with only the sound of the little girl's breathing filling the room. Eris stood by the window, peering out to the dark night, while Remus stood rooted to the spot, his mind slowly coming round to the truth. His gaze drifted towards the little girl, still asleep on the sofa. She was thin and pale. He noticed with dread the red marks peeking out from the collar of her cloak.

"You see it, don't you?" Eris asked, her voice breaking through his silent, shocked reverie.

_No_, he thought, but he couldn't deny it. The little girl's colouring, features, were familiar.

"A werewolf has never been able to carry a child to term," he responded, more for himself than for her, "I don't even think a werewolf, a male, can..." He tore his eyes off the child and stared Eris once more as she scoffed loudly at his naiveté.

"Did you think you couldn't get me pregnant?" It was her turn to sound incredulous.

"I've never heard of it," he answered in a small voice, feeling quite stupid.

She didn't respond, only shook her head but the gesture filled him with shame. She sighed in exasperation and ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair, a contrast to the little girl's own golden honey mane. "She's just like you, Remus," she whispered, the tone accusatory, "I thought she might not be, even though I watched her claw at herself every full moon, scream and cry…"

She stepped closer to him, moving cautiously, as if afraid of him.

"But this last one… she transformed… on her birthday, she transformed… for the first time." A shadow cast across her face that had nothing to do with the lighting of the room. "It was awful, just…" she struggled for words, "I can't handle it," she confessed, "I can't do it."

He didn't know what to say.

"You keep her," she whispered, "I just can't anymore."

"No," he said, reacting before he'd even had a chance to think, "I can't." He could only think of his life in shambles and the hole where his heart should be.

"You_have_ to." She stepped closer and grabbed the front of his shirt. She pulled him close and he could see the look of desperation in her eyes. "She's like this because of _you_," she breathed, "if you'd only told me the truth, about what you are…"

"She wouldn't be here," he finished, feeling the cold reality of those words hit him, his stomach heavy like a stone.

Eris started at the words and gave him a pleading look. "If you don't take her, I'll…" she gestured wildly, his shirt twisted in her fists, "I'll leave her in the forest, like an animal!"

He shoved her back, shocked and horrified. She let go, and stumbling backwards, Eris seemed to realize what she'd said. She looked overwhelmed by shame, much the same way Remus had been feeling a moment ago.

"Mummy?"

Remus and Eris both turned their gaze towards the little girl, rubbing sleep out of her eyes on the settee.

"Mummy, where are we?" Her hazel eyes went wide as she looked around the room.

Eris looked beside herself. It was clear she hadn't counted on the little girl waking up.

"Sophie," she breathed, the name catching in her throat, "this is… this is your new home."

The little girl's eyes widened in fear.

"This man," she went on, stepping closer to Remus, "this is Remus. He's your father."

The little girl looked confused. "You said… that I didn't have a daddy." Her voice was small and high and the sound of it wrenched at his emotions.

Eris sniffed and swiped at her face. "I lied." She stepped away from Remus and headed slowly towards the door. "He's your father," she repeated, her eyes looking towards the girl but not really seeing. She shifted her eyes to Remus and gave him a significant look. "I have to go."

As she turned, Remus, suddenly panicking, lunged for her, which caused the little girl to scream.

"Stop, please!" she cried, as Eris struggled to break free from his grip.

"Let me go!" Eris demanded, wild – eyed and desperate, ignoring the little girl's cries.

Remus, realizing quickly how it must look to the child, released her suddenly and she fell to the floor.

"Mummy!" The little girl scrambled off the settee and ran to her mother, who sat crumpled on the floor. She threw her tiny arms around Eris' neck and held on tightly. "Mummy, please!" she sobbed, "I promise I won't do it again, please don't leave me here!"

Remus watched horrified as the young girl struggled to hold on to her mother, while Eris tried desperately to release her grip and shove her away.

"I have to go," she repeated, angry and frantic. She got to her feet and tore to the front door as the little girl stood still, looking shocked, shaking and sobbing violently, only two words escaping her lips. "Mummy! No!"

Remus watched, unable to move as Eris pulled the door open, and stepped out into the darkness, and then turned on the doorstep and Disapparated without another word. She didn't say goodbye, didn't gesture to the girl in any way. She just left.

The realization of what had just happened seemed to hit him all at once with a force so heavy he swayed on the spot, threatening to tumble to the ground from the sudden weight of it. The little girl, meanwhile, stood where her mother left her, her tiny body shuddering with repressed sobs.

"Shhh," he whispered, moving towards her and falling to his knees beside her. "Shh." He struggled to settle his own emotions.

The little girl bit her lip and looked him in the eyes.

"It's okay," he continued, desperate to calm her, "It's okay." He peered back at the curious round, hazel eyes, swimming with emotions she didn't understand and he felt a powerful sensation rush through him as he realized the eyes looking back were his.

"Are, are you – " she stammered, eyes shimmering gold with trepidation and tears, "are you really my daddy?"

The question, whispered in the tiny voice, so innocent and young and small, took him by surprise. "Yes. I am." The reassurance in his own voice surprised him further.

"Is mummy coming back?" she asked, emboldened.

"I don't think so," he answered truthfully. He found he couldn't lie to her.

She let out a sob. "I didn't mean to do it," she whispered, bottom lip trembling.

"Do what?" He needed to understand.

"I didn't mean to scare her," she answered, sounding ashamed.

He recognized the emotion and it tore at his already damaged heart.

"It wasn't you," he told her, and he felt it was the truth, "she just had to go. But you're here with me now," he continued, feeling a strange sort of calm come over him as he spoke, "and it's going to be okay." Somehow, he felt that was the truth as well.

The little girl seemed soothed by his words as she gazed around the room in wonder.

"Do you live here?" she asked with skepticism.

Remus was aware of the terrible state of the sitting room and he felt suddenly ashamed for taking it out on his parents' home. He nodded.

"What happened?"

"An accident," he said, "I'll clean it up in the morning." The little girl swayed a little on the spot and he took her gently by the arm.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, wondering when she'd eaten last.

She shook her head.

"Are you thirsty?" he enquired further, concerned, but she shook her head once more.

"Sleepy?"

She nodded and yawned and he suppressed a smile.

"There's a bedroom over there," he gestured to the back of the house but she shook her head more determinedly.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked, wondering how she and Eris had lived.

The little girl pointed at the settee.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

He considered her for a moment, then stood up and moved to the settee. "Then we'll just have to make it better," he stated, pulling out his wand from his pocket.

The little girl looked at the wand in wonder. "You're magic," she whispered excitedly.

"Just like you," he said as he waved his wand and the debris by the settee was swept away. It gathered at the opposite corner of the room.

"No," she answered, "not like me." There was sadness in her voice.

"_Exactly_ like you," he whispered, picking her up and gently placing her on the settee, now covered with a plush feather bed. He pushed a clump of hair from her face that was matted to her cheek with dried tears. "I'm a werewolf, too."

Her eyes widened and her tiny mouth formed an '_o_' and he was instantly reminded of his mother. It surprised him but he shook it off. It was all too much for one day. He needed to sleep and so did the girl.

"Right now," he continued as he conjured and a blanket and a pillow, "is time for bed. Tomorrow you can ask me anything you want to know."

The little girl, Sophie, looked at him with eyes lit up. "I can?" she breathed.

He nodded, and pulled the cotton blanket over her. "Tomorrow."

She gave a tiny smile and the breath caught in his lungs at the sheer beauty of it.

"Good night," she whispered softly, then closed her eyes, murmured, "daddy" and was fast asleep.

Remus sat on the end of the settee, staring at the little girl, his daughter, as she slept. For the first time in a week, he wasn't thinking about the tragedy that had befallen his friends, he wasn't obsessing over Sirius Black. Instead, he poured over every conversation he could remember having with Eris – the sweet whispers of affection, the spiteful words of shame – and tried to fathom why she'd hidden the child for the last four years until, finally, exhausted, he drifted off to sleep, his daughter curled up by his side.

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The focus of this story will shift a bit as Sophie matures and is thrust into a changing world. I plan to keep some major plot points the same but I warn you now, this story will be very AU… 

**BTW, **the next chapter will pick up a year after the first part left off…

See ya soon;)


	2. Chapter 2: layers, cells, constellations

A/N: First of all, I have to say 'THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!' to rockstar-101 who has faithfully reviewed. It means a lot. And to the others who follow this story (I know you're out there), don't be afraid to leave a comment, a word, anything you want to say, your feedback helps shape the story (no flames though, please – I'm terribly afraid of fire)…

This chapter takes place on the night that Voldemort returns, after Sirius is instructed to "_lay low at Lupin's_"… Enjoy…

**Disclaimer:** I am still not JK. And I still don't have any money.

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**Chapter 2**: layers, cells, constellations 

_We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations_._ – Anais Nin_

The soft buzz of the night drifted in through the open window of her attic bedroom as Sophie slept. She was dreaming, more like a memory of herself as a child, though somewhere in her subconscious mind she was aware that it was a fabrication, imagined from the familiarity and monotony of spending many nights sitting on the floor by the fireplace, rearranging little pieces of a puzzle while her father read in his favourite chair and looked over at her to check her progress every so often. In her dream she was eight, it was a warm night and she sat by the hearth of the unlit fire, sparkling with a fine green dust. The pieces of a particularly large puzzle were scattered about on the floor around her with only a small corner assembled. She stared at it, as if willing it to rearrange itself to something she could understand, but, despite her magic, the pieces lay still around her as if taunting her, and she began to cry. The hopelessness that enveloped her as tears sprang forth was echoed in her father's eyes as he looked down at her from his comfortable perch wordlessly. It was as if the bleakness he'd experienced throughout his life was emptying from his gold flecked orbs and wrapping tight around her until she couldn't breathe. Somewhere in the midst of the dream that had gradually become a nightmare, she was slowly becoming conscious of voices. It was as if they were coming from a distant wireless; soft, deep murmurs mixing with the sound of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. Even though she felt the oppression of despair, something told her to listen to the voices and then, suddenly, her father was gone, the pressure squeezing at her chest had lifted and the voices were getting louder, though the words were still unrecognizable.

Sophie opened her eyes. Her room drifted into focus around her as a gentle breeze tickled her face, softly jostling her into consciousness. The images and feelings from her dream lingered on the corners of her mind and she sighed. She hated feeling like that helpless child. Since she'd returned home almost two months ago, the dreams had started. They were never really the same but they all had one thing in common: in each of them she was a child and in each of them she would become overwhelmed with anxiety. It was a marked contrast to how she'd felt living among a pack of werewolves in the Wicklow Mountains for ten months, under the guidance and wisdom of a kindly man named Paddy Corcoran, who just happened to be a werewolf. Paddy, or Cork as he was known among the pack, had saved her father's life many years ago and he, as well as another werewolf in the pack – a woman named Kate – were perhaps the only people besides Dumbledore her father had trusted after James and Lily's deaths.

Living among the pack had been an experience for Sophie, one that she looked fondly on and found she missed since she'd left. Her father, concerned for her state of mind, and, she imagined, worried for her safety, had brought her there last summer. He'd stayed a few weeks until Sophie had settled in, and then went back to England to look for work. At first, she'd been hesitant about living among other werewolves, afraid that they would shun her for her moment of weakness. Because, at the time, that's how she saw what had happened to her that night in the Three Broomsticks. She blamed herself for letting her guard down, for not fighting back hard enough – she blamed herself for allowing Tristan Cates to rape her. A year later, she knew better. It hadn't been her fault. Not even a little bit.

To come to that realization had been a bitter battle within herself, with the wolf, that, for the first time in Sophie's life, seemed intent on punishing her. The attack had caused a fracture in her psyche but ten months living in the wilderness, in what she imagined to be the most beautiful place in Ireland, had changed all that. The lycan side of her was more than appeased by the close proximity to others lycans, and her wolfish instincts were nurtured and allowed to shine. Even so, Sophie never let anyone see what she could really do.

When she'd first arrived, she had hoped that there would be others like her but a few days among the pack told her what she'd always suspected and feared: she was unique in her lycan abilities. There were no other born werewolves in the pack, no one who could control their transformations or could transform at will, only children who'd been bitten and abandoned by their families in the mountains and taken in by Corcoran and his wife, a sweet woman named Beatrix. Cork, who knew the truth about her, warned her that the others would not accept her if they knew, so, at Kate's urging and her father's reassurance that it was the right thing to do, Sophie told the others that she'd been bitten at the age of four. It was the one lie she could live with in exchange for the chance to be among her own kind. It was a lie that she had almost convinced herself, after ten months of living it, was true.

She didn't really remember much before the age of four, anyway. The short time she'd lived with her mother consisted of only a handful of vague memories: sitting in the darkness listening as her mother wept, holding a delicate hand as she walked among muggles in London. It was as if her life hadn't started until the day she'd woken up on the settee of the sitting room and watched her mother leave.

As Sophie lay still, listening to the sounds of a warm summer night and wondering why she'd become so prone recalling melancholy memories since she'd returned, she suddenly became aware of two distinct voices wafting up the staircase from the sitting room below. Recognizing the urgency in her father's voice, she immediately jumped up but was careful to be as silent as possible, her feet padding lightly on the hardwood floor. She avoided the creaky floorboards and jumped the noisy step on her way down, pausing on the fourth step, her slight body hidden by shadow and wall. She felt silly, like a child, creeping down to eavesdrop but the hushed tones compelled her to do it. She couldn't conceive of who would be in her home in the middle of the night, though she imagined that her father had acquaintances she didn't know as he'd had a whole life before she'd arrived at his doorstep almost sixteen years ago.

"… I won't let you do it alone."

The voice was rough, deep and had a strangled quality to it, like it hadn't been used in quite some time. She recognized the voice almost immediately. _Sirius_.

"It's too dangerous, Padfoot. You're staying here." Her father sounded almost as if he was pleading.

"Like hell I will!" came the harsh reply.

"It's not up for discussion," her father responded, sounding more authoritative, more like he had when she'd done something wrong as a child. "You know a few of them would attack at the sight of you," he continued in a low voice, "and poor Arabella, she'd have a heart attack."

There was silence, then conceit. "Fine."

"Good," her father murmured, "I'm leaving now. Sophie can get you settled."

_Damn._

**8888888**

Remus' daughter stepped out from the shadows on the staircase, her face pink with embarrassment. Sirius, his limbs heavy from exhaustion, immediately noticed the gauntness of her face. She looked older, less like the girl he remembered, and more like the Moony who stood before him now.

"I take it you heard enough?" Remus asked her, cocking his brow slightly. Even in his fatigued state, Sirius recognized the mocking look, telling her she'd been caught.

"Except where you're going," she answered, her eyes round and curious and ignoring the implication. The look of them was more like he recalled.

Remus gave him a pointed look, warning him not to say too much, then looked back at his daughter, standing at the bottom of the stairs, clad in blue cotton nightdress, spindly arms exposed. "I'll tell you everything when I return."

She looked ready to argue but he spoke before she had the chance.

"Sirius has been traveling awhile, if you could prepare him something to eat and get him some clean clothes, I'm sure he can do the rest."

Sirius noted the forced calm demeanor his mate had adopted, obviously for the benefit of his daughter. He turned back to Sirius. "You know where everything is, Sophie can get you some clean towels, and you can bunk with me."

Sirius nodded, feeling grateful he wouldn't have to make the journey to notify former members of the Order of the Phoenix that Voldemort was back, even though only a moment ago he had been keen on doing his part, and watched silently as Remus grabbed his traveling cloak and his wand, stepped out into the warm summer night and was swallowed by the darkness. He turned back to Sophie, who hadn't moved from her perch by the stairs and was staring at him curiously.

"Hello, Mr. Black," she said, sounding oddly formal.

"Call me Sirius," he croaked. He wanted to sit down but realized he was much too filthy from living in caves for the past six months. He didn't want to sully the sad, threadbare sofa.

"What's going on?"

He knew he couldn't answer truthfully – it wasn't his place, Remus had made it clear with the look – and he found he didn't want to. He was tired, hungry and emotionally spent worrying over Harry.

He hadn't wanted to leave his godson's side but knew that Hogwarts, crawling with Ministry members and Dementors, was the least safe place for him now. Besides, he needed to do something, _anything_, now that Voldemort was risen once more. Alerting Remus and old Order members of the emergency meeting later that day (it was now well past midnight) was the only thing he, still a fugitive, could do.

"I think it's best Remus fill you in when he returns."

She gave him a pointed look; much like the one he'd received from Remus only moments before. It was odd to have the same liquid amber eyes staring at him from the feminine shell.

"Voldemort's back," he said finally, hoping she wouldn't ask him to explain. He didn't have the energy for it.

The young woman's reaction was not what he had expected. Instead of being shocked, she seemed to accept it.

"It was Pettigrew, wasn't it?" she asked, guilt swimming in her eyes.

He nodded.

Sighing, she closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, all emotion gone.

"I'll get some you towels. I'm sure you want to clean up."

She ascended the stairs and he hesitated before following. Once in the tiny corridor, he paused as she reached into the cupboard and extracted a small pile of washcloths and a large white fluffy towel.

"I'll go fix you something to eat."

Sirius, struggling to stay upright, was only able to nod. Sophie, who looked at him with glazed over eyes, nodded back and headed down to the kitchen looking resigned.

Sirius sighed, turned the knob and entered the bathroom, which seemed smaller than he remembered. The claw footed tub stood tucked under the high miniature window, gleaming white in the soft light of the flickering candles in their sconces along the walls. Though the peeling yellowed wallpaper had seen better days, the room was immaculate, as only Moony would have it, he thought. It seemed a shame to muddy his floor but soon Sirius had stripped away all his clothes and was soaking in the sweet smelling bubbles that had filled the tub from a small golden tap, his clothing lying in a dark puddle staining the floor with months of filth. The water, warm and relaxing, had an immediate effect on him and his limbs felt heavier than ever. He couldn't move – and he didn't want to.

A knock on the door sometime later roused him from his drowsy stupor. He wondered briefly how long he'd been there soaking like a pampered child before the door creaked open and Sophie stepped inside.

"Sirius?" she asked with trepidation, "Are you alright?"

"Hmmm," was all he could manage.

"You've been in here for over an hour," she went on, sounding concerned.

He knew he should answer but his mouth was too tired to form words. He felt he could fall asleep in the water but knew it was a bad idea.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, forcing himself to stir, "I'll be out in a minute."

"It's fine," she answered, "take your time. I only wanted to let you know I've left a tray in your room."

The mention of food roused his ravenous hunger.

"Thank you," he said.

He heard the door shut with a soft click and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. The murky water around him formed a dark ring on the pristine white ceramic and he splashed it a little to wash it away and forced himself out of the tub. His body felt slight and weak as he stood on the white tiled floor and he caught a glimpse of a skeletal form in the mirror. It took him a minute to realize it was his own reflection.

_Merlin_, he thought, shocked by his appearance, _is that really me?_

He didn't remember the last time he'd looked at himself in a mirror and decided it was best if he didn't do it again anytime soon. Still, he found he couldn't look away. Pale skin stretched over sharp angled bone, scars and patches of sunburnt skin dotting the landscape of his body. His chest was scrawny and marked by the tattoos he'd collected over the years in Azkaban. Some he'd gotten of his own accord, most forced on him by the Ministry and other inmates. He stepped closer to the mirror and rubbed away the mist, then stared at the dark lines and patterns scrawled across his body, recalling the moments he'd received them and shuddered from a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the warm air around him.

_No_, he thought, shaking his head, _don't go back there. Not now_.

Forcing himself to look away, he collected the muddy clothes off the floor and piled them atop the hamper. Though he knew he should throw them away, he didn't, thinking that very soon he might need them. The rags had clung to his back for years, worn in favour of clothes he'd stolen off wash lines, worn out of habit. He couldn't let them go.

Sirius dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of cotton trousers Sophie had left in a neat pile by the door, both of which sagged slightly on his slender frame. They were Remus' – worn but cared for – and they felt like a soft blanket against his skin. Clothed and properly clean for the first time in over thirteen years, Sirius felt more like himself, despite wearing another man's underpants.

He chuckled to himself at the strange thought as he padded into his mate's bedroom, marked by the absence of painted purple flowers along the edge of the door, and found a tray atop the bed, a steaming bowl of homemade stew, a chunk of bread and a glass of milk laid out like a feast. He devoured it hungrily, slopping stew and breadcrumbs down his front, secretly thankful Remus' daughter had the good sense to let him have his meal in private and placed the tray on the floor when he finished. Noting the time on the clock by the bed, he figured he had enough time for a nap before Moony returned. He realized he needed more than just a few hours of sleep but it would have to wait until after the meeting. Then he would sleep for days.

Lying on his mate's bed, the overwhelming feeling he'd been fighting since he'd seen Harry appear on the Quidditch pitch clutching a dead boy and sobbing returned. He'd lived through the first war (if twelve years in Azkaban and two years on the run could be considered living) but many of those who were closest to him hadn't – _James__and Lily__hadn't _– survived.

But he and Remus had.

It was a minor miracle that each of them still drew breath despite the danger and horrors around them during those years in the Order. Remus, with his undercover assignments that led him to mingle with the darkest of creatures, and he, with his disregard for his own well – being and that flying motorbike which he'd relied on too many times to whisk him to safety_. Why?_ He asked himself, perhaps for the thousandth time in over a dozen years, _why them and not us? _

The answer to half that question at least was currently padding around in the loo, no doubt cleaning up after him and restoring the room to its former pristine condition. _She_ was the reason Remus had been allowed to survive, Sirius was sure of it. But him – that he couldn't begin to understand. The only answer he could come up with was that Harry needed him. If James had lived, it would have been him at his son's side in the hospital wing. It would have been Lily in the stands cheering the boy on instead of the boy's mate's mother. Instead, Harry had Sirius – a wanted fugitive with a secret animagus form who couldn't even show his face, let alone take the boy in and give him the life he deserved.

Yet Sirius knew he had to count his blessings. He _had_ survived the war, twelve years in Azkaban and two years on the run from the Ministry. Now, with Voldemort's return, he had the chance to learn from his mistakes, change the outcome, protect Harry and take the Dark Lord down – once and for all. Though he had very little idea how to do that, he was sure Dumbledore did. At least, he hoped the old wizard had some tricks left up his sleeve. They were going to need to call on every ounce of magic they could muster.

The bath, the meal, the small room and the sagging bed were heaven to a man who hadn't had the luxury of any in years, and as he drifted off to sleep, he felt more grateful than overwhelmed.

He had Remus in his life again – one of his brothers – and he'd be damned if he let anything get in the way of that friendship again. They were the last of the Marauders – no war would break them apart again.

* * *

I know that up until now I have only just touched on some of the characters that I introduced near the end of part 1. Please forgive me, I promise that the backstory of these characters -- Corcoran, Kate -- will be revealed over future chapters. I don't want to force the story, I want to let it unfold on its own... I hope that makes sense... 

The next chapter is will be posted soon, I hope...


	3. Chapter 3: Past in Present

Hi all!

This chapter has been sitting on my desktop, mostly done, for over a week. Just didn't have time to polish & post it. Sorry:( It is longer than usual, so I hope that makes up for having to wait the extra week. Thanx to those who reviewed last chapter. It's nice to hear from new people (though I have to thank my one faithful reviewer -- thanks muchly!) As usual, let me know what you think. There is a flashback, which I hope explains things a little better.

**BTW**, to rockstar - 101, just to answer your question -- no, Sophie wasn't allowed back to Hogwarts but was home - schooled instead by her father. She also spent a better part of that year with the werewolf pack in Ireland, but in my mind Remus communicated with her frequently and they managed the school part somehow (it's magic, people).

**Disclaimer:** The usual. So there.

* * *

**Chapter 3**: Past in Present

_Early Summer, 1980_

The night Remus left Greyback's pack with Kate in tow, he was sure they would be dead by morning. Still, he'd stolen away into the forest with the young witch, who'd lost her baby only days before and had now become useless to the brutish werewolf. They'd run for hours, unable to Disapparate for fear of splinching (as each of them was bloodied, beaten and bruised) but they'd managed to make it to the valley on the other side of the mountain just before sunrise.

Remus had only one thought in his mind as he held Kate's hand tightly and dragged her through the underbrush of the ancient forest – survival.

They'd reached the pass, and he'd waved his wand, muttering the words of a spell he'd learned not long ago and the branched archway appeared. Pulling her closer to him, they'd stepped through the brambles and emerged on the other side into a clearing by a small creek; the makeshift village Corcoran had created spread out before them in a vision of dazzling light and colour. Kate, clinging to his side, let out a gasp at the sight of vibrant caravans dotting the clearing, the sunrise shining through the treetops and spilling down in patterns over tiny, improvised gardens and a well – worn path that wound through the makeshift gypsy hamlet much in the same pattern as the creek. No one stirred but smoke wisped out over the glowing embers of a large fire pit near the center of the dwellings, a sign of slumbering life. This, Remus remembered as they hobbled past, had been the site of his initiation into the pack before the pack's wizened leader found out he had been sent by Dumbledore in search of allies in the war – a war the leader, Paddy Corcoran, wanted nothing to do with. He hoped that ritual still meant something as he neared the leader's lair.

He led Kate along to a blue painted caravan at the end of the path and knocked. "Don't worry," he told her as he felt her stiffen in his arms in fear, "everything will be fine." He said the words with no real conviction, his head smarting from being knocked to the ground repeatedly, his body screaming in pain, knowing that his injuries were nothing to hers. But he had to say it. She needed to hear those words.

The door creaked open and a greying man with wild flowing hair stuck out his head. He took one look at Remus and ushered him in. A woman, grey and plump, jumped up and exclaimed, "Dear boy, what in Merlin happened to you?"

Remus felt her hovering instantly, her wand out and waving violently as washcloths, glasses of water, blankets and potions flew into the room and laid themselves gently by her side.

"Beatrix," he breathed with relief. He wanted to cry but remained stoic and composed for Kate, who was now being attended to by Corcoran's wife.

Remus was pulled aside, placed on a chair by the tiny kitchen (composed only of a small gas stovetop and a round metal sink) and a glass of something clear was shoved into his hand.

"Drink," Corcoran commanded.

Remus tipped the glass to his lips and swallowed the warm, burning liquid then closed his eyes as it seared down his esophagus and hit his empty, leaden stomach. He recognized the werewolf's homemade potion (which was heavy on the firewhiskey and light on any actual potion).

"What happened?" The question was said in the softest whisper.

Remus opened his eyes and looked into the elderly werewolf's soft blue orbs. "We were attacked," he whispered back, "by Greyback's pack."

The old man set his jaw. "Where?"

Remus sighed. "We were living in the pack," he explained, not surprised by the hard flash of anger in Corcoran's eyes, "and some of the pack, they… they attacked Kate," he went on, "and I tried… I tried to stop them but I couldn't…" He faltered as the memory came back to him.

"Is she the one, Remus?" the old man asked gravely.

Remus had contacted him about Kate a month prior, asking if the pack would be willing to take her in.

"Yes," he whispered, aware that Corcoran would be angry he'd brought her there, "but she lost the baby days ago."

The old man's eyes softened a little. He hadn't wanted Kate there when she was pregnant, for reasons Remus still couldn't understand, but he seemed to accept her presence now.

"Was she – " the werewolf hesitated, glancing towards the living room, his voice still low.

"Raped," Remus breathed, his throat threatening to close as he spoke, "yes."

The old man let out a sharp breath, clasped Remus' balled up hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Beatrix will clean you up when she's finished with your friend," he whispered softly, "I'll be back soon."

With that, Corcoran pulled on a faded black cloak laid over the back of a chair by the door and swept out of the caravan. A look passed between him and his wife as he left and Remus was once again awed by the way they communicated with only gestures and looks, as if they knew the other's every nuance of movement, had their own private language.

Remus sat quietly as Beatrix ushered Kate into the tiny bathroom. They disappeared for several minutes then the old woman emerged and began to attend to his cuts and the nasty bump on his head.

"Is she alright?" he asked, staring at the closed bathroom door.

"No," Beatrix answered in her no – nonsense, matter – of –fact tone, "but she will be – eventually."

He sat quietly while she finished, listening hard for sounds from the other side of the door. He heard the distinct sound of running water, then silence, then more movement and finally the door opened and Kate emerged dressed in a flowery dress that hung loosely over her angular frame, her hair damp and pressed down to her scalp, pink and red scars visible on her calves and arms. She stood in the doorway looking like a frightened child, her eyes wide and empty as she watched Beatrix place salve on the last of his cuts.

"My dear," she said turning to Kate, "come here."

Kate stepped tentatively towards her and Beatrix took her by the hand.

"If you're both ready," she said, looking from Kate to Remus, "I'll show you to an empty caravan just outside."

Remus noticed Kate stiffen once more and moved off the chair and took her gently by the arm. "It's alright, Kate," he whispered, sensing her distrust and fear, "I'm here. I won't leave your side."

He felt her lean into him.

"You need rest, dear," Beatrix added soothingly, "Come with me."

They were led a short distance away to a tiny, rusted caravan nestled under the large, sweeping branches of an ancient willow. Beatrix guided Kate into a small bed, whispered something to her Remus couldn't hear then the young werewolf lay down and closed her eyes. Beatrix moved away and pulled him to the opposite corner.

"Poor girl," she said sadly, "you did the right thing bringing her here."

Remus only nodded, wondering where Corcoran had gone. He prayed that he hadn't put the older werewolf, once an ally of Greyback's (and now considered an enemy) in danger.

"Where did Paddy go?" he asked.

Beatrix gave him an appraising look. "He's gone to make sure you'll both be left alone," she whispered.

Remus had a feeling he knew what that meant. He felt guilt well up at putting his friend in that position.

Corcoran's wife seemed to sense his turmoil. "Don't worry, Remus," she said, using her soothing tone on him, "My Paddy knows what he's doing."

She grazed her hand across his forehead and down the side of his face, pushing on his chin to better look him in the eyes. "Rest," she said, taking his face in both hands, much like his mother used to do, "I'll be 'round this afternoon." Then she waved her wand and another bed appeared in the middle of the tiny room. With another wave of her wand, the dusty curtains on the small windows fell closed and the door shut softly behind her. Remus looked over at Kate, her brows furrowed, her thin, long frame looking frail and sickly under the faded blue coverlet, and slumped down onto the second bed. He was tired and needed sleep but his mind was a frenzy of thoughts and images, all of which he wanted desperately to push away.

"Remus?"

He noticed Kate's blue eyes shining in the dim light.

"Remus, hold me, please," she pleaded, her voice small and juvenile.

His body protesting, he got up, walked the short distance to her bed and lay down beside her, enfolded his arms around her protectively and pulled her to his chest. She whimpered and tears rolled down her cheeks, dampening his shirt at the collar but soon she quieted, her breathing slowing to a rhythmic murmur.

Remus lay awake as the sun's rays spread through the tiny caravan, his mind a muddle of thoughts, his heart a mess of emotions. He wondered if Lily had given birth, had a feeling she already had, and wished he was at home in his cottage, curled up on his childhood bed, in the Common Room in Gryffindor Tower, seated at his favourite table by the window, or on the couch at the flat he shared with Sirius, listening to his mate describe James and Lily's baby. He wished he was almost anywhere but there.

As the long lines of light across the floor lengthened and faded, Kate clinging to him in a fitful slumber, he finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Remus Apparated to the empty lane fifty yards from his house. He was tired, having only just finished alerting every member of the Order of the Phoenix left alive that Voldemort was back and Dumbledore was calling on them once more. Only a handful of people were left, but watching the spark of joy in their eyes flicker and fade at the mention of the Dark Lord's name (realizing in an instant that all they'd hoped for the future was once again in jeopardy) had taken every last bit of energy out of him. He was past exhausted, all he wanted to do was sleep for days, but he had to collect Sirius and Apparate to the designated meeting place half the country away. But first, he needed to tell Sophie that Cedric Diggory was dead.

He wished fervently that he didn't have to tell his daughter that the first boyfriend she'd ever had, a boy she'd truly cared for (maybe even loved) had died at the hands of a man who she blamed herself for allowing to evade capture. He worried at her reaction and wished he didn't have to be the one to deliver the blow but it had to be done – and it had to be him.

Stepping onto the well – worn path that lead up to his childhood home, he reminded himself that he couldn't protect her from the harsh reality of life. He had learned that long ago, hearing her scream in pain as she transformed from her cell in the basement (adjacent to his own) every full moon as a child, and was reminded of it in brutal fashion last year. Still, he longed to take away the sting when he delivered the news but he knew it was impossible. It would hurt, she would be devastated – and he couldn't do anything to make it better. He felt powerless at times like these and he loathed the feeling.

Remus shut the front door behind him as softly as he could. Somewhere between the front steps and the doorway, he'd decided on waking Sirius and trying to sneak away before Sophie noticed he was back. He knew it was wrong but placated his guilt by reasoning that they would be late for the Order meeting. He managed to rouse his mate easily from sleep and gesturing him to keep quiet, they headed back down to the main floor and stepped out quickly onto the front steps.

"Aren't you going to let your daughter know we're leaving?" Sirius whispered just before they Disapparated.

Remus shook his head and gave him a look he knew his mate would remember, that chilling look that told his friends it was better not to question him. Sirius only blinked, looked away and whispered, "Right then. Let's go."

**8888888**

Sirius stood nervously in an empty room, forcing himself not to pace, as the Order meeting got underway in the adjacent room. Dumbledore had thought it best to speak to the rest of the group about him before he joined them. Remembering how most of them had been taught by Moody to curse first and ask questions later, he had agreed it was best.

Remus, in his haste to get to all the members in time for the meeting, had only given them a few facts about his innocence, which left Dumbledore to fill in the blanks. He wondered vaguely at the collective reaction to the news that he was not a Death Eater like they'd all been convinced, but was more concerned about Harry and how they would protect him. Only Sirius and Dumbledore knew about the true contents of the prophecy that lead to the Potters being targeted by the Dark Lord. Only he and Dumbledore knew how important it was to the fate of the world to keep Harry safe.

"Sirius?"

He turned at the sound of Dumbledore's voice and followed when he beckoned him through an ancient set of double doors into the adjacent room of the crumbling muggle Manor house. When he entered the room, a hushed silence fell over the group of nine sitting around an old, dusty table. All eyes on him, he pulled out the nearest empty chair and sat down next to Remus.

"Shall we begin?" Dumbledore asked, breaking the silence.

The meeting began and Sirius listened intently as their founder laid out the road before them. It was grim, it was frightening, but most of all it was more of the same. Sirius listened with increasing frustration as Dumbledore repeated the same words of fifteen years ago. It irked him to no end that after all those years, Dumbledore didn't have a more concrete, hands – on approach to the situation. While Sirius agreed with the need for information, allies and new members, he needed to hear that they would be searching for Voldemort and that loathsome runt Peter, that they would actively go after him, destroy him before he got too strong. In Sirius' opinion, it was what they needed to go to ensure it didn't escalate to the kind of war they had fought in the past. Harry needed to be kept from having to fulfill the prophecy. Killing Voldemort was the only way to ensure that.

By the end of the meeting, Sirius was ready to burst. Only Remus' presence and his steady hand gripping Sirius on the wrist in a strong but comforting gesture when he felt ready to erupt kept him from ranting at the top of his lungs and questioning Dumbledore's nerve – at least not in front of the others. At the end of the meeting, Sirius tried to make his way towards Dumbledore but was interrupted by his old allies. Hagrid was the first to approach him, blubbering an apology and nearly crushing him in a bone – breaking hug. After that, Dedalus' squeaky, nervous apology, Elphias' wheezy words and Mrs. Figg's one – armed hug (the bag of tins tied at her wrist knocking him in the back of the head) didn't seem so bad. Sirius hastily accepted their words, muttering an "all's forgiven" each time, all the while anxious to get to the headmaster before he Disapparated back to Hogwarts. Luckily, it seemed the headmaster was intent on speaking to Sirius as well. The others left quickly afterwards, each of them tasked with suggesting names of new recruits, while he and Remus stayed behind.

The first words out of his mouth when they were finally alone were, "Is that it?" He didn't care how harsh or rude it sounded, but by the disapproving look on Remus' face, his mate did.

The old wizard did not immediately answer him, only sighed. "I know you're eager to stop this war before it begins," Dumbledore began, his voice calm despite Sirius's harsh tone, though weary, "but you must realize something Sirius," he went on, "we are in a worse position now than we were at the start of the last war."

Sirius looked at him incredulously. "How's that?" he asked with skepticism. "Voldemort's weak, you said it yourself. Now's the time to cut the head off the snake, as it were."

Dumbledore frowned. "No, Sirius," he answered, "it's already too late for that." He shook his head, which only served to frustrate Sirius even more.

"What do you mean?"

"He means," interrupted Remus, who, until that moment, had been silent, "that Voldemort _already_ has an advantage he didn't have the first time. He can touch Harry, he can_ hurt_ him."

Sirius didn't know what to say.

"Yes, but – " he began before being cut off by Remus.

"Sirius," he said in an urgent tone, "he almost _killed_ Harry last night." He grabbed him by the shoulders. "We almost_lost_ him."

Sirius could see the fear and long – held grief in his mate's eyes but knew what he was really saying. '_We almost lost the war_.' Remus knew.

"You told him," he stated, looking at Dumbledore for confirmation.

"Yes."

Sirius looked back at his lycanthropic mate, noticing the edge of liquid amber in his eyes that told him the wolf was stirring.

"They wanted to tell you," he blurted out, guilt welling up suddenly inside him. He was referring to James and Lily and the decision they made thirteen years ago not to tell Remus the truth about why they had to hide from Voldemort. It had pained them both to keep something like that from their mate but they were weary – and rightly so – of the spy getting the information. Though they had all entertained the possibility that Remus could have been the spy, he knew that James and Lily never really believed it.

"We've gone over this, Sirius," Remus said wearily, "I've already told you, I understand."

Sirius nodded but didn't feel any less guilty. A thought occurred to him that he was holding the guilt for the three of them – he, Lily and James.

"I think it's best that we focus on what's immediately ahead of us," Dumbledore interrupted. "Arabella's watching Harry as usual, Dedalus is taking the first shift today, and Elphias will relieve him later tonight."

Sirius didn't remember the specifics of the plan for Harry's safety discussed during the meeting, as he was too busy struggling with frustration and anger to listen. It seemed that the old wizard was keen enough to notice.

"And when is it my turn?" he asked.

Dumbledore gave him a stern look. "We've been over this, Sirius. It's too dangerous right now."

"Bu – "

Before he'd even gotten his first word of protest out of his mouth, Dumbledore waved his wand and a roll of parchment appeared in mid – air and drifted into his outstretched hand. "I received this from Scrimgeour just before leaving Hogwarts this morning. I thought you'd like to see it."

Sirius, his protest forgotten, reached out and ripped the seal open hastily, his fingers fumbling as he held the sheet steady in his hands.

_Professor Dumbledore_,

_I have examined your memory of Mr. Crouch II's confession and I find it is sound. There is no evidence of tampering with the memory nor are there any signs of modification. I will take this new piece of evidence into consideration and will have the ear you handed over a year ago to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement reexamined and compared to the last remains of the late Mr. Peter Pettigrew. If the finger and ear are found to belong to the same person, there is a very good chance that Sirius Black can be exonerated. That being said, I would discourage any contact with Mr. Black. He is still considered a fugitive and as far as the Ministry of Magic is concerned, he is still a very dangerous and guilty man. I would hate to see you make the mistake of getting on the wrong side of the law. The consequences would be very difficult for a man of your respect and stature within the wizarding community to endure. _

_I will be overseeing every aspect of this investigation and can assure you it will be dealt with in a fair and objective manner. _

_Yours truly,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour_

_Head of the Auror Department, Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement _

Sirius reread the third and fourth sentences over again, a tiny hopeful feeling lighting up within him and warming him. He could hardly believe it, the chance that he could be free looming before him like a ghostly image taking form through the mist of a bog. It wasn't quite real – not yet – but it could be. Very soon.

He hardly heard Remus and Dumbledore speaking, barely acknowledged the Headmaster's parting words as he Disapparated in the overgrown garden of the abandoned muggle property in which the Order of the Phoenix had met for the first time in nearly fourteen years. Mildly surprised he hadn't splinched himself, he stumbled up the front steps of Moony's house into the sitting room, silent and stunned, but sort of… _happy_. For the first time in over a dozen years, he was almost _happy_.

The minute his eyes fell on Remus' daughter, seated in the armchair by the empty fireplace, a look of unfathomable sadness in her golden orbs, he quickly came back to reality. He couldn't see Remus' face but he imagined the look of guilt upon it as he rushed to his daughter's side.

"You heard," he whispered, guilt and shame dripping from his voice.

The young woman gave him a hard, scathing look Sirius didn't understand.

"How?"

Sophie raised a hand and pointed across the room. Sirius followed and his eyes fell on an old wireless perched on a side table with spindly legs.

"I'm sor – " Remus began.

"Don't."

Sirius could feel the coldness of the stare she gave her father, and he saw a flash of Eris in her eyes.

"What was so important," she began, hurt and anger in her voice, "that you couldn't spare five minutes to tell me that – " she faltered, her eyes growing shiny, then seemed to regain her composure, " – that he was killed."

It dawned on Sirius suddenly that the boy, Cedric Diggory, must have been someone special to Moony's daughter. He felt saddened for her, guilty for not taking the boy's death as seriously as he should have, and suddenly very uncomfortable at being the witness to something so personal as the young woman's grief.

"I can't tell you," Remus answered.

The mood in the room seemed to change instantly at his mate's words. In an instant, Sophie was on her feet, racing across the room and wrenching open the door.

"Sophie!" Remus cried, taken aback, "where are you going?"

The young woman stopped, half – turned and fixed her father with a deadly stare, her eyes raking over Sirius for a moment, silently indicting him as an accessory to her father's supposed crime.

"Figure it out!"

And with those words, she turned, stepped outside and slammed the door with such force, the windows rattled in their casings, threatening to shatter.

Remus did not move. He just stared at the door, looking forlorn.

"Why didn't you just tell her, mate?" Sirius asked after a moment, his slightly hoarse voice as soft and unaccusing as could make it sound.

Remus tore his eyes from the door and looked at him as if he'd only just realized he was standing there.

"I can't," he said, dejected, "if I do, she'll want to join."

"And what would be so bad about that?"

Remus dropped to the sofa and slumped back on an old cushion.

"I can't put her in danger, can't lose her, Sirius," he breathed, shaking his head and fixing his faraway stare on the door, "not like I lost – " He gave Sirius an apologetic look, silently correcting the "I" to "we", then continued. "I have to protect her. I won't let her join."

Sirius gave his mate a sympathetic look but couldn't fathom how he would be able to accomplish that. The young woman was intelligent and resourceful – just the kind of witch they needed in the Order of the Phoenix. Besides, he thought, Remus wouldn't be able to keep the Order a secret from her for very long. There was just no way.

After a few empty words of comfort, Sirius wandered up to the bedroom, eager for sleep. He knew Remus wouldn't sleep until his daughter was back, but he wouldn't go after her either. Some part of him knew he was wrong for not taking the time to tell her what happened last night, and for trying to keep the knowledge of the Order's existence from her.

Though Sirius understood that his mate was trying to protect the girl, in his opinion, Remus was going about it the wrong way. The girl was clearly as much her mother's daughter as she was Moony's – and that kind of stubborn determination would not allow her to give up until her father caved in and told her _everything_. The best thing for his mate was to accept his daughter's need to fight. She was a werewolf, after all – strong, wily and like Harry, she was born for the part. The Marauder spirit was in her blood. There was no fighting that.

* * *

I didn't know how to end it... or when to end it, really. hope it doesn't show. 

Next chapter coming soon! Promise!


	4. Chapter 4: Live Through This

**A/N: **Here it is, another chapter. There isn't much to say though I apologize for not updating sooner. The holidays came, my muse left me and I've been recovering from one and hunting for the other ever since. As always, reviews would be nice. Tell me what you think, I'd appreciate it:)

**BTW**, to answer _rockstar-101_'s question - yes, Eris will turn up later on in the story (_not_ in a flashback) & the circumstances surrounding her return will be interesting, to say the least. You will learn what she's been up to for the past fourteen years, though it will be a while.

**Disclaimer:** HP universe not mine. You know the rest.

* * *

**Chapter 4**: Live Through This 

_The only cure for grief is action_. (George Henry Lewes)

In the time it had taken for Remus to tell his daughter all he knew about the events of the previous night and fill her in on the Order of the Phoenix, the sun had risen high into the sky and the heat of the day had settled into the tiny cottage and all around them, yet inside the Lupin home, darkness had settled in the hearts of its three occupants.

When Sophie returned after storming out an hour later, he'd sat her down and against his better judgement, vowed to tell her all he could. He struggled through the little details he'd gleamed from Sirius, telling her what he knew about the circumstances of Cedric's death, his heart aching as he watched his daughter fight back tears in vain. Telling her about the Order, though, had, in some ways, been more difficult. There were things he couldn't say, things he didn't want to say but felt he had no choice but to tell her and all the while he tried his best not to make it sound heroic or extraordinary– in short, enticing. The last thing he wanted was his daughter – his young, precious daughter – fighting at his side.

When he'd finished, she'd left the room, locked herself away in her own bedroom to grieve the loss and let the rest sink in. She didn't leave her sanctuary for three days. He'd been worried – beside himself, really, -- but he'd born it well. He had Order business to attend to, and Sirius (who was at times like a needy child himself) to keep him busy. He had very little time and energy to do much more than secretly worry about his daughter.

Sirius, who had been frighteningly focused since landing on his doorstep (something he had _never _been before), seemed to think Remus was doing the best thing by leaving her alone. Remus, who didn't take much stock in the opinion of a man who, in a short time, had become obsessed with the welfare of a child not his own (with reason, he admitted) didn't agree but stepped back and let her be. He didn't want to stifle her or push her before she was ready. He had grieved for too many people in his life. He knew you never really got over the death of someone you loved.

Five days later, he was glad he hadn't interfered. Sophie had slowly emerged from her room and had even left the house, though he hadn't any idea where she'd gone. By the end of the week, though quiet and sullen, his daughter had come out of the dark tunnel more or less intact. In fact, he could swear there was a determination in her movements, a purpose to her steps. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful for her ability to cope with what life threw her way or not. It wasn't until she approached him one night as he boned up on his antidotes (preparing himself for what was to come in the only way he knew how) that he had his answer.

**8888888**

Sophie stood at the foot of the narrow staircase, watching her father and his mate as they sat in the tiny living room, each immersed in words. Sirius, who sat on their tattered old couch with his back to her, held the _Daily Prophet_ in mid – air, examining each page for any reference to his godson. Ever since the Last Task of the Triwizard Tournament, the paper (no doubt at the behest of the Ministry) had taken to referring to Harry in some derogatory way. While it angered her father (and her, for that matter), it enraged Sirius beyond words.

"Pfff,_fuckin' gits_," he grumbled as he turned a page violently, tearing it in the middle.

Her father sat impassively in the old wingback chair situated near the fireplace. (During the cold winter months, it was the best spot to sit in the house but it made no difference at this time of the year.)

"I'd really like to read that," he said in a casual tone, his eyes never leaving the book on his lap. After a week spent trying to quell his friend's temper, her father had still managed to hold on to his patience. (That he had, she realized, was a mark of a truly disciplined man.)

Sophie heard her father's mate mumble incoherently, then resume his scanning of the pages, rustling the paper between his fingers in agitation. If either one of them noticed she was watching them, they gave no indication.

"_Fuckin' bollocks_!"

Sophie took in a breath, slowly steeling herself for what she'd resolved to do. She felt nervous, and their houseguest's outbursts weren't doing anything to quell the feeling, but she was determined to finally voice what she had settled in her mind.

"Dad," she said, walking into the room and standing by the hearth.

Her father looked up from the book, which she recognized as a potions manual, and gave her a curious look.

"Are you busy?" she asked, trying not to fumble on the words. It felt like years since she'd spoken more than two words to another person – over a week since she'd learned about Cedric's death and Voldemort's return.

"Not at all," he answered, closing the book, putting it aside and giving her his full attention.

Sirius rustled the paper in his hands but stopped grumbling, which made Sophie aware that he was listening, despite the obvious distraction in front of him.

"I – " she began anxiously, "I just – " She took a deep breathe. "I want to join the Order."

The words she'd been contemplating for a week finally out of her mouth, she felt a wave of relief. Her father blinked and tilted his head to the side, as if he didn't quite understand.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, waiting for a response and growing anxious again.

"There is _no_ way on this _earth_ that you will join the Order of the Phoenix," he finally replied, sounding resolved.

She had been expecting protest, but the harsh tone took her by surprise.

"Why not?" she asked indignantly.

"You're too young," he began.

"I'm of age."

"You're too inexperienced."

"So were _we_ the first time we joined," Sirius threw out casually. It earned him a reproachful look from her father.

"You haven't even graduated yet," he went on, deftly ignoring his mate and referring to the fact that she hadn't yet taken her N.E.W.T.s., necessary for any witch or wizard who wanted to practice magic.

"I'm taking the test in a few days," she threw back.

He looked stunned. "Pardon?"

At those words, Sirius, who until that moment had kept his eyes glued to the newspaper, looked up, intrigued.

"I contacted Professor McGonagall last month," she explained, aware that all eyes were on her, "I was supposed to take the N.E.W.T.s with the seventh years but since…" she found she couldn't say it out loud.

Her father nodded a little impatiently, signaling he understood and beckoned her on. She noticed the other man avert his eyes.

"The N.E.W.T.S. were postponed," she went on, steeling her voice, "She sent me a note about it the day after… after the Triwizard Tournament." She watched her father for a moment as he shifted in the old wingback chair by the fireplace, which sat flameless and empty.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his tone calm and without emotion.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," she answered in a small voice.

Remus, looking agitated, crossed and uncrossed his legs, and looked like he was about to stand and say something then thought better of it. He sat back in the faded plush chair and sighed. She waited.

"It's too dangerous, Sophie," he finally spoke, adopting a gentler tone.

"I – " she began then reconsidered, "_we're_ dangerous," she stated matching his tone.

"I just don't think you realize the sacrifice you'd be making as a member of the Order," he reasoned. His words smacked of condescension.

She scoffed and shook her head. "I grew up with _you_, didn't I?" she retorted a little more angrily than she had intended. "Our whole lives were affected by your _sacrifice_!" She immediately realized the harshness of her words.

Her father, looking hurt for only a second, sat expressionless in the wingback chair while his mate stirred just behind her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling remorseful, "I didn't mean it to sound that way."

"No," her father interrupted, "It's true. I realize that it must have been difficult for you, being raised by a broken man." There was no bitterness or anger in his words, only resignation.

The words stung. "No," she protested, the words sticking in her throat, "don't say that. You're _not _broken." The words, which were probably the most honest thing he'd ever spoken in her presence, had set off a wave of conflicting emotions within her.

Remus looked up briefly as she stepped closer and took his hand in hers, his haunted eyes looking past her to Sirius.

"I think it's best I left you both to your talk," Sirius mumbled behind her. She didn't look back but heard him leave, rustling paper and light steps ascending the staircase and disappearing above.

Sophie stepped across the hearth and knelt by her father's chair, feeling relief at their sudden lack of an audience. She clutched her father's warm hand between hers. She loved the feel of her father's reassuring hands, large and rough yet gentle.

"Dad," she breathed, "please don't fight me on this." He opened his mouth to speak but she continued before he could protest. "I need your support. I need to know that you have faith in me."

He pursed his lips for a moment. "It's not about that," he explained, "I believe in you. I always have." He shifted once more in his seat, leaning forward and looking at her intensely. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

She lifted one of her hands from his and made a fist unconsciously. "You can't protect me from the world, dad," she said, stifling the emotion that gripped her as her thoughts turned back a year, "You just _can't_." She willed her voice not to crack.

The haunted look returned to his liquid amber eyes. "I know," he whispered in defeat.

"Look," she said, pushing away tears that threatened to fall, "I'm stronger now than I've ever been, I know you see it." She pulled out her hand from her father's grip and took hold of both his hands in hers. "_You_ helped me to do that."

"I didn't," he protested, trying to pull away.

"You did," she said earnestly. She squeezed his hands tighter in hers. "You sent me to Ireland, you sent me to Kate. You knew she would understand, that she would help me."

This was the first time in a year they'd even approached the subject. Sophie could see guilt and shame swimming in her father's eyes, though he tried to mask it. It still hurt her to see the pain that fateful night had caused her father.

"I know you wish I would just, what – pack up and run back to Wicklow, hide out until the war's over?" His eyes flashed once again with shame, telling her she was on track. "While you risk your life doing what you know is right?" she went on. "No, I won't do it." She stood abruptly and moved away, then turned back towards him, her eyes ablaze with confidence. "We're a team, you and I," she stated, "It's always been _us_ against the world!"

Her father gave a faint smile. It sounded foolishly sentimental out loud but they both knew it was true.

"There's more of _us_ now," she went on, "your mate, for one," she gestured towards the ceiling, thinking of Sirius holed up in her father's bedroom, "Dumbledore," she added, thinking of the Headmaster fondly, " and all the others," she concluded, her mind on a roomful of faceless witches and wizards that had fought in – and survived – the first war. " – Including _you_."

"Sophie – "

"No, dad," she interrupted, determined to say what was on her mind now that she'd found the courage and conviction to say it, "I _have_ to fight! I can't sit back and watch. You taught me better than_ that_."

Her father was silenced by her words. She approached him slowly and knelt by his chair once more.

"I have to do _something_."

His eyes glimmering gold, he took her hands in his and looked her in the eyes. "I know," he whispered, his eyes echoing his understanding, "I know." He pulled her into a hug.

Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, feeling relief wash over her. His large hands stroked her hair and back reassuringly, much like he used to do when she was a little girl, a signal that he wasn't angry, a hidden message in the gesture – "everything will be alright." Sophie closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her father's cheap cologne, which lingered on his clean – shaven cheek, indulging in the familiar scent. The smell was comforting, his lean, muscular arms felt like home and she didn't want to let go.

After a long moment, her father gently loosened his grip and pulled away.

"We have to make sure you're ready for your N.E.W.T.s," he stated softly, a faint smile playing across his lips.

She could see the effort he was making to appear convinced in the tired lines around his eyes, making him look as weary as she was sure he felt.

"I'm prepared," she told him, smiling back with equal effort.

"You can never be too prepared," he said, standing up and moving towards the piles of books on the shelves by the mantle. "I have the perfect book for review," he went on, searching the spines. After a moment he abandoned his search. "I think it's upstairs. Don't go anywhere, I'll be back in a minute."

With those words, he raced up the stairs and she heard his footsteps overhead, racing around his bedroom. She imagined him toppling over stacks of books that sat precariously perched on every free surface of his room while his mate watched in wonder or, more likely, amusement. She knew it was his way of dealing with the situation. He didn't agree but he had relented because he knew he couldn't stop her – knew it was wrong to try.

Alone in the sitting room, she slid into the seat he had been occupying and let out a long breath that she only just realized she'd been holding.

It was really happening. The war.

She knew she should be worried, even afraid of what was to come and what she would have to face but she found, curiously, that she wasn't. In her relatively short life, she'd endured abandonment, excruciating and constant mind - numbing pain, self - mutilation, homicidal urges, prejudice, sexual assault and very recently, grief. Though only a week ago, she'd felt like she couldn't endure anymore, as she sat by the unlit fireplace in the tiny cottage she called home, she was sure that all that pain had served a purpose. It had prepared her for what was to come now that Lord Voldemort lived and breathed. If she could live through all that and come out more or less whole, than she could handle what was to come.

**8888888**

Remus climbed the stairs, his mind threatening to overload on the thoughts in his head.

_Find the book_, he told himself,_just find the book, give it to her, make an excuse and go. Just go. _

He didn't know how he found it, hadn't heard Sirius inquiring with curiousity, and didn't even remember handing her the book and saying the words before he found himself wandering through the woods towards the pond.

Sophie was going to join the Order of the Phoenix. She would be a soldier in the coming war, just like he had been in the former. He worried about whether her skills as a lycanthrope would be called on. _Would she be asked to go undercover, just like he had the first time round?_ He couldn't even conceive of allowing his daughter to willingly place herself among the feral packs he'd encountered as a young man, let alone getting anywhere near Greyback. The thought of it made him cringe in disgust.

_I'll just have to talk to Dumbledore_, he reasoned to himself, _make him understand that Sophie joining the Order only means that her heart's in the right place_._ It doesn't mean he has to send her on dangerous assignments_.

He knew Dumbledore would understand, even agree that Sophie needed to be kept safe, yet something nagged at him.

_She's not a child anymore_, the low voice almost purred, _she's not even altogether human. She's one of us – she's strong and ruthless and quick and cunning. Don't forget that, mate. She's a killer. Just like you. _

_Just like me_, he thought as he stopped at a boulder by the edge of the clear azure pond. He gazed at his melancholic reflection in the still surface. _Like me_. The implication of what his lycanthropic side was telling him, something he always suspected, was not lost on him. The last thing he would want for Sophie was for her to be held down with the same feelings of guilt, shame and inferiority that he had struggled with all his life. Those feelings, coupled with grief, were enough to break the best of men, and he hadn't been immune all those years ago.

He sighed as a tiny fish skimmed the surface and dove back down into the murky coolness of the water, his reflection broken up by small ripples across the glassy surface. The quiet of the woods was comforting and gave him a chance to do what he hadn't been able to do for a week -- think. He stayed at the edge of the pond until resolve set in.

Remus admitted to himself that somehow he knew that she would always be a part of that world – that she would_ want_ to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix, not for the glory or danger but because it was the right thing to do. It was one of the things he loved about her - that she recognized and longed to do the right thing - and it was also the thing that made him worry. Sophie's conscience ruled her life, much more than his ever had. He'd known people like that before and he'd seen their fates. He didn't want her ending up the same way.

Though she wasn't quite like him in that way, he wasn't sure if she resembled him in others – or if being like him was better than not – but he was thankful to the gods everyday of his life that she was there – alike or not. She was his consolation in a world where evil like Voldemort could exist. She was his own private salvation. He vowed to himself that if she needed it, he would be hers.

He just prayed it that in the coming war, it would never come to that.

* * *

Okay, truthfully, how painful was it? - Good, bad, awkward?

I had to wrestle my muse to the ground for this one. I hope it isn't obvious. This was was more talk than action, the next chapter will, hopefully, reverse that.

The story will jump to Grimmauld Place, where Remus, Sirius and Sophie attempt to clean house and stumble across hidden secrets (and maybe even a dark creature or two)...


	5. Chapter 5: There's No Place Like

Hello again!

I have been working away at this fic, trying to get out as much as I can while I can. That sounds ominous, I know but it's really not. I just tend to get a mental block every now and then...

As usual, my faithful reviewer, **_rockstar-101_** has been wonderful in continuing to leave comments. Very much appreciated (how about the rest of you? Huh?). To answer your questions - Eris is sort of straddling the fence. I know, cryptic - sorry:( & yes, Remus & Tonks will have a relationship (like it says in the little blurb) but it won't be so straightforward.

**Disclaimer: ** I look in the mirror every morning and I still look like me. I guess that means I don't own HP.

* * *

**Chapter 5**: There's No Place Like... 

Number twelve Grimmauld Place lay nestled between a row of Victorian terraced houses, located in a tumbledown muggle neighbourhood in south London. The city had once, long ago, boasted the best of pureblood aristocracy, the Black family being the jewel, but as more and more muggles moved in, unaware of the wizarding community's presence, many families chose to abandon the city in favour of large, resplendent Manor houses in the surrounding countryside. But the Blacks, who were, as a people, proud to a fault, refused to leave the city.

Sirius Black's great – great – grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black, had inherited the mansion from _his_ father and he would not – could not – let it go. Instead, he placed a number of protection charms on the house to ensure the encroaching muggle population left them alone and settled in to live among the unsuspecting muggles, convinced they would eventually die off and go away. By the 1900s, the Blacks were the last wizarding family left on Grimmauld.

Had anyone been able to see it at the height of its glory, they would have been shocked by the sight of the seventeenth-century mansion, at least three times the size of the cramped Victorians surrounding it, with its high gables and steep sloped roof, a turret fixed to one side. The dark stone masonry, the tall, glazed mullioned windows and the carved rosettes and fleur de lis that adorned the transoms only added to the splendor of the grandiose mansion.

This was the house Sirius Black grew up in.

He hadn't thought about his childhood home for years, hadn't so much as wondered about it once since breaking out of Azkaban, so it came as a surprise when Remus informed him that the Black family Mansion was now in his possession. Even after blasting him off the family tree and disowning him, his parents hadn't been able to break the ties that bound anything and everything in the Black name to him. Not even a witch as dark, vindictive and powerful as Walburga Black, his mother, could sever seven centuries of Black family tradition. Of course, he had never wanted it – not the house or the money or the infamy that came with being a Black. He had never wanted it but he could never run from it, either. After all those years spent rotting in prison, it seemed, fugitive, blood-traitor – or not – he would always be a Black.

The first time Sirius set foot in his childhood home since running away at the age of sixteen, had been just over a week ago. Having offered it, on a whim, to Dumbledore as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, he found himself setting off to inspect it with his former headmaster only an hour later. He'd half hated himself for even suggesting it, but by the time they'd Apparated to Grimmauld Square, he'd conceded that it was the right thing to do. He would have happily let it rot for another decade but his conscience wouldn't let him. The mansion, cloaked and protected by ancient spells, was perfect for the headquarters of a secret organization.

Walking out of the Square onto the street, which had been suddenly immersed in shadow, he'd been shocked when the mansion appeared to him as he approached it. The tall glazed windows, once kept impeccably clean, were caked in dirt and several panes were cracked, the roof sagged at its highest point, the crumbling masonry was covered in layer upon layer of city grime and the turret, which housed his parent's bedroom, leant to the side, threatening to break away and crash to the street below. From the look of concern on Dumbledore's face, it seemed the older wizard was surprised it was still standing.

But despite its ramshackle, neglected appearance, Sirius knew the house had charms and wards that would keep it standing, possibly forever. Floods, earthquakes, or any other natural disaster could never knock it down – Phineas Nigellus had made sure of that. Long after every Black died away – long after he, the last male heir was gone – the namesake mansion would continue to stand at number twelve Grimmauld Place. It would stand forever as a testament to the longevity of the Blacks – a longevity that saw, nearly a century after the house had come into the possession of his grandfather, the last heir capable of carrying on the pureblood bloodline, sneaking in like a thief in the night, his life – and name – worth little more than a house elf in the wizarding world. The irony of that wasn't lost on Sirius.

**8888888**

Sophie stepped out from the shadows and slipped her hand from her father's arm, searching the tiny Square for any signs of life. Her eyes swept over the park, enclosed by an old rusted iron fence as her father and Sirius stepped cautiously towards the dimly lit and empty street.

"All clear," her father whispered just as she was coming to the same conclusion.

Sirius walked to the gate and with a flick of his wand (once her grandfather's wand, borrowed from her father), the gate swung open soundlessly. "This way," he said, gesturing her to follow.

She stepped towards him and looked out across the abandoned street to the row of rundown houses. "Which one is it?" she asked, wondering why a proud pureblood family like the Blacks had lived in what amounted to a muggle slum.

"Can't see it yet," he whispered abrasively, his eyes scanning the street.

Just then, a man turned the corner and sauntered down the sidewalk, moving quickly past the Square, barely noticing them. When he disappeared around the corner a moment later, Sirius, his back rigid, gestured to her father, then took her firmly by the wrist.

"Come on," he urged impatiently, "Moony will keep a lookout from here."

She allowed him to drag her across the street, her wrist slipping from his long, calloused fingers as she struggled to keep up. He caught her hand and gripped it tightly, pulling her a few meters to the left after they stepped up onto the sidewalk. They came to an abrupt halt in front of a nondescript house. Dropping her hand, he reached into his cloak pocket and slipped out a small scrap of paper.

"Read it, quick," he commanded, handing it to her.

She glanced at the slip of parchment and as she read the words, written in a small, flourishing script, the ground beneath her feet began to shake. She instinctively reached for Sirius' shoulder, steadying herself as the ground continued to rumble and a large, derelict mansion appeared to squeeze itself between and push aside the rowhouses.

She barely had time to take in its sudden appearance before Sirius' hand was locked around her wrist once more and she was being tugged up the steps and through the front door.

**8888888**

The last time Remus had stepped foot into the House of Black, he'd been a scrawny fourteen year old boy. It had been the summer before their fourth year at Hogwarts and Sirius had somehow convinced his parents to let him invite a friend for the weekend. Since they would never allow James, a Potter – and therefore a blood-traitor – to stick as much as a toe through their front door, and Peter's mother was too intimidated by the Blacks to let Peter visit, Remus became the only Marauder ever to see the inside of the mansion. He'd spent a weekend there, among one of the darkest pureblood families in all of England, and he still had the scars to remind him.

Standing in the dark, dusty foyer, Remus couldn't believe he was standing in the same house. Everything was covered in a layer of grime and dust, including the peeling wallpaper-covered walls, and the grand spiral staircase looked worn and somehow smaller than he remembered. Other than the dilapidated state, the house, at least from the foyer, looked almost the same. The only addition he could spot as they made their way down the corridor to the stairs to the basement kitchen were a set of moth-eaten thick velvet curtains along the wall.

"Careful," Sirius warned in a harsh whisper as he led the way softly, "or you'll wake it."

Before Remus had a chance to wonder what Sirius was referring to, Sophie brushed past the curtains and they flew open, revealing a very old, very scary-looking Mrs. Black shrieking like a banshee at the top of her lungs.

"Fuck!" Sirius exclaimed, pushing him aside and lunging for the curtains. "Help me pull these shut!"

Remus grabbed one side as Sirius grabbed the other and they pulled the curtains shut with some effort, though Remus had to screw up his eyes as he stood close to the undulating form of Sirius' mother as she shrieked obscenities and drooled like a madwoman. As soon as the curtains closed, Mrs. Black's portrait stopped. It took him a moment to realize the other portraits of past family members that lined the walls along the corridor and up the stairs had all been yelling, too. The sudden silence that fell over the dark house made him aware of the ringing in his ears. He doubted it would fade anytime soon.

**8888888**

Sophie's ears were ringing, her nerves were rattled, and her heart threatened to burst from her chest as she followed Sirius and her father down a dark flight of stone steps to the basement of the old, decrepit house. She'd only been in the house a few minutes and already she wanted to leave. Having never knowingly set foot in a dark wizard's dwelling, she'd been apprehensive about leaving her comfortable cottage to spend the summer in a place she imagined to be filled with dark magic. But she never expected to come face-to-face with Sirius' prejudice, pureblood relatives, not in that way at least.

"Are you alright?" her father leaned over and whispered into her ear when they entered the basement and what, Sophie realized, was the kitchen.

"Fine," she whispered, willing her heart to stop beating loudly.

His eyes lingered on her, as if he wasn't convinced, before he turned away and joined Sirius standing by the kitchen table.

"Well," Sirius said, his voice back to normal volume, though grave, "what do you think?"

The question was addressed to her father, who had wand in hand and was already clearing out the cobwebs from the fireplace with a spell.

"The place has gone downhill, hasn't it?" her father remarked, a playful tone to his voice.

Sophie watched as her father's old friend made a face she couldn't read, then chuckled. "Wait 'til you see the rest of it," he commented, something between a smile and a grimace on his face.

He, too, began waving his wand in an effort to make the kitchen less of a filthy mess.

"Bloody house elf has gone round the twist since _his mistress_ croaked," he commented darkly as he moved around the kitchen to the pantry, which was almost bare, save for a few dusty cans.

Sophie moved further into the room, looking around at what she supposed had been a hub of activity in its day, but just seemed sad in its abandoned state. Unable to officially use magic just yet (she hadn't yet received her results from the N.E.W.T.s) she felt a little useless, standing around watching them.

Just then a loud crack sounded, making Sophie jump and crash into the table.

"MASTER!"

A very old house elf with mottled, sagging skin appeared in the middle of the kitchen. He bowed subordinately in front of Sirius, who looked back disgustedly.

"Master – _the filthy blood-traitor_ – you're back!"

Sophie was taken aback and looked at her father questioningly. He caught her eye for a second before turning his attention to Sirius. There was a sudden shift of mood in the room.

"Stoke the fire in the furnace," he demanded coolly, ignoring the obvious insult, "and get a fire going in that fireplace, quick!"

The house elf gave the new master of the house a look of deepest loathing, then turned his unwavering gaze to her father. "As you wish – _poor excuse for a Black_ – master," the house elf replied in a deep bullfrog-like croak. He moved to the fireplace and began to stoke a fire.

"Clean it first!" Sirius barked, his face darkening. "You want us all to die from carbon monoxide?"

The house elf continued, following Sirius' orders to the letter, but muttering darkly under his breath the whole time. "_Filthy blood-traitor, bringing in his half-breed friend, polluting the house of his fathers with werewolves and tarts_."

"Oi!" Sirius bellowed, moving away from the pantry, now dust and rodent droppings-free, and stalking towards the fireplace. Remus grabbed him by the arm and held him back, while Sophie watched apprehensively.

"You watch your mouth, you little toe-rag!" he spat, his face twisted in anger, "you'll not disrespect my guests."

"Whatever you say, _master_," the house elf simpered in a mocking tone, bowing deeply once again and turning his back to finish stoking the fire. "_Muggle-loving piece of rubbish_."

Sirius made a sudden lunge for the house elf but her father held him back. "Don't," he entreated, "he's mad, you said so yourself."

Sophie watched as her father calmed his mate down for the umpteenth time since his arrival on their doorstep and she wondered if their friendship had always been this way.

The house elf, looking satisfied, spoke again. "Does _master_ need anything else?" he asked, adding darkly, "_like a beating_."

Sirius, still angry, seemed to force himself to ignore the nasty comment. "Go crawl in your hole and get out my face." He spat out.

"As you wish, _master_." The house elf gave him a dirty look before Disapparating with another loud crack.

_What the hell was that?_ Sophie wanted to blurt out. Instead, she kept quiet.

It seemed Sirius, though, had read her mind. He pocketed his wand and began to rummage through the sack of cleaning supplies they'd brought with them. "That was my mother's little pet," he explained, handing her a bottle of doxycide and a pair of thick rubber gloves. She took them but gave him an inquisitive look. He ignored it and went on. "Name's Kreacher – with a _K_," he added. "Don't let him frighten you, he's all talk." He brushed past her and back up the stairs.

Her turned to her father, who was waving his wand, finishing up the last of the cleaning. Every surface in the room had been cleared of dust and the iron chandelier hanging low in the middle of the room had been lit.

"Is that thing staying here?" she asked. The thought of it gave her an uneasy feeling.

"Afraid so," her father said, grimacing much like his mate, "Kreacher's been here for ages, and he's seen Dumbledore here, placing protection spells for the Order. He has to stay."

"Great," she murmured.

He dove into the sack on the table and removed another bottle and a pair of gloves. "Shall we?" he asked, smiling.

She'd dealt with doxies before. They were nasty, little vicious creatures with razor-sharp teeth. "I take it this place is infested," she commented, looking down at the bottle in her hands.

"Every room," her father answered. "Ready?" He held out his arm gallantly.

"Can't wait," she deadpanned, taking his arm. "Lead the way."

**888**

The next three days were spent scrubbing, dusting, washing, sweeping and ridding every room they tackled of dark objects and family heirlooms. Sophie had watched with mild horror as Sirius tossed gold frames, goblin-made artifacts, and ornate jewellery into plastic bin bags. Some of the pieces, she was sure, were priceless. The careless way he threw them away made her stomach clench painfully.

By the fourth day, they'd managed to get the kitchen impeccable, the grey and white marble countertops shining in the dim light of the medieval iron chandelier, the pantry stocked with food and the magically cooled shelves, holding jugs of milk, eggs, butter, cream, fresh fruit and several different cuts of meat. Sophie had never eaten so well in her life. The meals, which she found herself looking forward to, made the rest of the house bearable.

They'd only managed to clean out two rooms and a bathroom since they'd been there, having to battle a scourge of doxies, as well as other magical and non-magical pests, all the while trying to rebuff the house elf's attempts to derail Sirius' brand of housecleaning, which seemed, to Sophie, more like an exorcism. After battling a particularly nasty pack of wild puffskeins hidden in a guest room on the third floor (creatures that were normally pleasant but had been starved and were rabid with hunger) they settled in to their rooms (Sirius and Remus sharing a guest room while Sophie occupied another across the hall) for sleep. But sleep wasn't easy in a crumbling house crawling with vermin and what else, they didn't know, as well as a mad little house elf that despised them and would have murdered them in their sleep if Sirius hadn't expressly forbid it.

Sophie lay in the dark, the light from the street lamps outside filtering in through the holey curtains, still finer, even in their vermin-gnawed state, than anything in the tiny cottage she called home. Still, she missed her room, her bed, and the view of the garden from her bedroom window through the flimsy polyester curtains her father had bought her when he redecorated her room as a surprise when she was twelve. She heard the now familiar rattling from the room above, which Sirius supposed was a boggart or maybe a ghoul, and she turned over, pulling the soft sheet over her head. She had a feeling, as the rattling grew louder, that she was in for another sleepless night.

An hour later, as she dozed off to sleep (the rattling finally having ceased), she began to hear a soft, rasping noise. It grew louder and louder as she listened intently, having roused herself from half-sleep in alarm, and she swore she could almost make out words. Moving cautiously from her bed, she tiptoed towards the rasping sound, which seemed to be coming from the ornate fireplace. She crouched low, leaning in close to the empty grate and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she realized it was voices – different voices, overlapping and repeating like a dozen recordings being played at once. She stood up abruptly, grabbed for her wand on the table by the bed and tore from the room, across the hall to the other guest room.

_Maybe one of them's downstairs, listening to the wireless or_… She couldn't think of what could cause the phenomenon she'd heard coming from the room below. It was Sirius' father's old private study – a room they had yet to tackle.

She stood at the closed bedroom door, contemplating what to do. _It's nothing, _she thought_, you're overreacting._ But the fine hairs on the back of her neck had yet to go down. Looking down each end of the hall for any sign of movement, and finding none, she knocked gently then opened the door.

By the dim light of the solitary candle flickering in an elaborate holder by one of the single beds, Sophie saw Sirius and her father lying on their respective beds, both sound asleep. Sirius' dark, wavy hair was the only thing visible from the doorway, the blanket pulled up over his face, while her father lay propped up on pillows, an open book sprawled over his slowly moving chest.

She felt a jolt of panic at the realization that neither one was below in the study, then berated herself for letting fear grab hold of her. _You're a werewolf_, she told herself as she crossed the room to her father's bed. _You have to be braver than this._ The truth was, she normally wasn't so easily rattled but she'd had a bad feeling ever since stepping foot into the House of Black. She wasn't sure why, but the negative feelings that lingered in the house were overwhelming to her finely tuned lycan senses.

She barely touched her father's arm before he bolted upright, knocking the open book to the ground.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he stammered, throwing his feet to the floor.

The commotion roused his mate. "What the fuck, Moony! I'm trying to sleep," he mumbled from underneath the covers.

If Sophie weren't filled with dread, she would have found the whole thing humourous.

"I heard voices," she uttered, feeling suddenly foolish.

Sirius popped his head out from under the cover and fixed her with an annoyed but curious look.

"What do you mean?" her father asked, sounding skeptical.

"I – " she stammered, "I heard something, coming from below."

"Voices," Sirius said dubiously, fixing her with a hard look. It reminded her a little of Professor Snape.

"Not exactly," she went on, looking back at her father. He was staring at her with concern. She sighed and plodded on, a little annoyed. "It came from the room below mine – the study."

Her father turned his head and exchanged a look she couldn't see with Sirius, who climbed out of bed, jammed his bare feet into a pair of worn slippers he'd found in a wardrobe and headed towards the door. "I'll check it out," he said, exasperation in his tone. She felt like a silly child being humoured by a parent.

"Don't forget your wand," she threw out, the annoyance in her voice evident.

Sirius stopped and fixed her with a wry look. He opened his mouth to retort but her father cut him off before he had a chance to speak.

"Why don't we all go," he suggested, fishing his slippers from under the bed and picking up his wand. He pointed it towards the wand Sirius had borrowed and it flew through the air and landed in his mate's outstretched hand.

Sophie felt a surge of anger towards her father, who she felt was also humouring her, but it quickly subsided in the gloom and darkness of the house as they all padded down the stairs to the second floor.

Stopping abruptly in front of the thick wooden door that led to Orion Black's private study, she heard the raspy whispering sounds coming from the other side of the door. Her father, his eyes widening, suddenly grabbed Sirius by the shoulder.

"Did you hear that?" he breathed.

Sophie felt his wiry body tense next to her and noticed the hairs on his arms standing on end. He really had heard it, too.

* * *

If it seems like this was written in the wee hours of the morning, with nary a spell check in sight, well, you're half-right. I have no beta and my eyes tend to water after hours spent staring at my 20" screen (too big, if you ask me). So sorry if there's any mistakes...

The next chapter continues exactly where this one left off, revealing just what they've discovered.. and oh, yeah, some wild, red-haired family finally makes an appearance at headquarters...


	6. Chapter 6: Lasting Impressions

**A/N:** In the last chapter, I mentioned Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place being located in South London. According to canon, it's in Northwest London, somewhere near King's Cross Station. I've fixed my boo-boo in this chapter. Sorry:( my mistake but that's what tends to happen when you don't have a beta (and you post in the wee hours of the morning :p)

This chapter is longer than usual. By request (thanx _rockstar-101_), I've included a flashback to Remus' first time in Number Twelve Grimmauld. Hope you like it. Let me know.

**Disclaimer**: The cold Canadian weather has not yet gotten to my head. I am not JK Rowling & I don't own HP.

* * *

**Chapter 6**: Lasting Impressions 

"Did you hear that?" Remus breathed.

Sophie felt his wiry body tense next to her and noticed the hairs on his arms standing on end. Her father really_ had _heard it, too.

Sirius gave him a suspicious look, but he seemed to now believe in the possibility of the voices being real, not just the imaginings of a silly teenaged girl.

"What'd you hear?" he asked, rattling the doorknob gently. It was locked. He didn't seem surprised.

"Not sure," her father answered as Sirius' grey eyes studied him.

They exchanged dark looks and a moment later, they were standing, wands out, silently sending the same spell at the locked door. The whole door shook in its frame before popping open.

"Stay here," her father demanded, fixing her with an "_or else_" look. Though that look hadn't worked on her since she was twelve, she thought it best to listen (especially considering she still couldn't use her wand).

Sirius and her father peered into the darkness, nodded to one another and slowly walked in. Sophie stood just outside the door listening as they fumbled in the dark for a moment before the candles set around the room suddenly flared and bathed the room in soft light. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the house elf half-hidden in the shadows down the hall, his mouth agape, eyes wide in anger. They stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, until he made a strangled noise of surprise and ducked around the corner and out of sight.

"There's nothing here."

Sophie snapped back to attention and cautiously entered the room, listening hard for any sound. She could hear a faint rasp, like whispers wrapped in muslin.

"Still hear it?" Sirius asked to no one in particular as he walked through the room, prodding objects moodily with his wand as he moved.

Sophie could not answer. She'd finally looked up towards the fireplace and couldn't tear her eyes away from the family portrait hung over the mantle. Orion and Walburga Black sat looking imperiously down at the room, two young boys at their feet. Several things immediately struck Sophie as odd. The portrait was not an oil painting but a photograph, blown up and enclosed in a thick, gilded frame. At first glance, the occupants sat stock-still, then the youngest boy – not more than six –began to fidget. A moment later, the other boy, noticeably older only because of his longer limbs, began to poke at his brother. This earned him a wallop on the back of his head by the fierce-looking woman. Then the scene erupted in chaos. Sophie watched as the woman stood up and began to chase the boy around the chairs, throwing curses with her wand, while the younger boy cowered by the edge of the frame. While all this was going on, Orion Black sat pompously in his seat, oblivious to the chaos around him. He had a charming smile, confident, stately demeanor with bold grey eyes and lustrous thick, wavy black hair that shone like a dark halo around his handsome face – a face with features he shared with both of his sons. Sophie hadn't noticed she'd stepped onto the hearth until Sirius was standing beside her.

"This is a photograph," she said, suddenly flustered. She'd been staring at his father's chiseled, handsome face far too long and was sure he'd noticed where her eyes had been resting.

"Yeah," he sighed, gazing up at the large picture and tearing his eyes away in disgust, "_the happy family_." He stepped off the hearth and began to prod the books on the shelves of the tall mahogany bookcase. "They couldn't get us to sit for an artist, so my father had the brilliant idea of getting a photographer," he went on, his voice dripping with bitterness. "You see the result."

Sophie, the reason for entering the room in the middle of the night forgotten, wanted to say something but she couldn't think of what. The Potter family portrait that had hung over the mantle of the replica of Mr. Potter's study in the Room of Requirement, well over a year ago, came to mind (**1**). The contrast of that portrait to the one before her was severe.

The voices had become like background noise, so she didn't immediately notice when the sound intensified as Sirius prodded a thick, leatherbound book. Thankfully, her father did.

**8888888**

Remus raced to the other end of the room as he realized the sound had come from where Sophie and Sirius currently stood.

"What did you do?" he demanded, the soft hum beginning to fade away.

Sirius looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Sophie's eyes widened as she, too, seemed to realize the direction of the sound. "He prodded a book," she answered excitedly, stooping to get a better look at the titles and running her finger along the straight row of spines, "this one!"

Remus leaned in and tilted his head to better read the title, Sirius and Sophie instinctively doing the same on each side.

'_The Heir's Handbook'_, it read, '_By Orion Sirius Black_.'

It took a moment for the words to sink in before he was standing erect and backing away in unison with Sirius as Sophie gave them a questioning look. The two men exchanged troubled looks but no one spoke.

"Should I – ?" Sirius whispered, looking pale.

""Pick it up," Sophie gently prodded.

Sirius reached out and slid the book from the neat row on the shelf. It looked very old, and Remus concluded that it couldn't possibly have been written by Sirius' father. _Maybe one of his ancestors wrote it_, he reasoned.

"Open it," he suggested, as the rasping voices grew louder and Sophie reached out and dug her nails into his forearm.

Sirius hesitated before opening the cover and revealing an inscription that appeared before their eyes, much like the magic of the Marauder's Map.

"Read it," he urged.

Sirius looked at him then turned his gaze back to the page before him.

"_To my son and heir, Sirius Orion Black_," he read, his voice a croaky whisper, "_may the secrets of our fathers rest safely in your hands_."

As soon as he spoke the last word aloud, a scraping, rumbling noise filled the room and the bookshelf which had housed the thick volume began to fall away, revealing an opening in the wall and causing all three of them to jump back in alarm.

_Oh, shite_, Remus thought as sound and light filtered out, _what the hell have we done?_

**8888888**

"Don't do it!" "Wait!"

Sirius stepped boldly into the dark, cavernous room, ignoring Remus' protests and the alarm in his mate's daughter's voice. Though he never had known it existed, he immediately knew what it was. His father, a man of many secrets, used to spend hours in his private study, one of the many rooms in the house he and his brother were never allowed in. He remembered having once been sent by his mother to fetch his father for one of his punishments. Sirius had walked in defiantly, without knocking, but his father hadn't been there. He'd walked out and had made it to the end of the hall when he saw his father step out of the room. He always just assumed his father had Apparated to another room in the house, hoping to get away from his mother, but now he realized he'd been in his secret room.

The room consisted of rows of glass-fronted cabinets lining the walls with shelves crammed with books, bottles, and the darkest of objects. There were also, curiously, photographs, some clearly decades old, others from the late seventies, that, Sirius assumed, had been taken just before his father's death. The photographs were mostly of women, smiling and cooing to the camera, some in witches clothing, others in skimpy muggle frocks, a few wearing nothing at all. He recognized a couple of the women, remembered a few of the photographs, and thought it more than coincidence that Remus was with him to uncover more of his father's dirty little secrets. Again.

And then there was the source of the noise Sophie had heard through the walls.

A cabinet at the far end of the room sat with the door ajar, hundreds of tiny bottles lined up in neat rows, all of them glistening silver-white, a soft hum emitting from the strange collection.

"Memories." Remus stood in the middle of the room in front of a small pedestal. An intricately carved pensieve, made of dark stone, sat upon it, glowing faintly.

_Of course,_ he thought, _where else would he keep his secrets? Certainly not in his head where mother could see them_.

Sirius approached the pedestal and looked in. A silvery-white memory had congealed, lying still at the bottom of the pensieve. He lowered his borrowed wand, dipping only the end into the thick substance and prodded it gently, then pulled away his wand with a flourish like he'd seen Dumbledore do before, so that moving images rose up from the stone basin and shimmered in the darkness like ghosts.

Two transparent figures gyrated in unison, flickering like images from an old film being run through a soundless projector, reminiscent of a dirty movie he'd once seen with James at a dingy placed called a "theater" the summer of his fifth year. Sirius was faintly aware of the hum behind him, Remus breathing beside him, and Sophie's discomfited, wide amber eyes glowing in the corner. He could almost hear the loud moans and guttural grunts, mouths moving silently, heads tossed back in lustful abandon: Sirius' father and another woman, naked and writhing for their viewing pleasure.

* * *

**_August, 1975._**

Remus stepped off the train as it came to a stop at King's Cross Station, pulling a small, tattered suitcase behind him, his father by his side. They walked along the platform to the end where they'd been instructed to go, and he looked around nervously, scanning the thinning crowd for any sign of his gregarious mate.

Somehow – he wasn't sure how – Sirius had convinced his parents to let him have a friend over for the weekend of his fourteenth birthday. Remus, by default, had been that lucky friend.

The events that led up to Remus standing in the station to be picked up by the Blacks and taken, as a guest, to their home on a hot London day had started at end of term. Sirius, feeling low at the thought of spending another summer with his prejudice, pureblood family, confined to the walls of the Black family Mansion, had been moping for a week, directing his anger at anyone who dared to cross his path. Normally, the Marauders would take his mood swings in stride (Remus thought James secretly looked forward to them, as their pranks were more prolific – _especially_ against the Slytherins) but after watching in horror as Sirius ripped into Lily Evans in the Common Room one morning, James became desperate to quell his mate's disgruntled state. His solution had been to owl his parents, asking them permission to allow Sirius to visit them in the country during the summer. The Potters, though (Remus suspected) doubtful of their success, owled their son back with a positive answer and tried to contact Sirius' parents to extend an invitation. The result was a Howler from Sirius' mother that exploded (thankfully) in their dorm room. It had been vicious, nasty, and venomous – an undeniable "No!"

Sirius had parted ways with his mates looking worse than they'd ever seen him but a month later they each received a very excited letter from their suddenly joyful mate. His family was going away in the middle of August to a seaside resort and his father (being suspiciously agreeable) was allowing Sirius to stay home under the care of the house elves.

Remus was happy for his mate, understanding too well that, for Sirius, a birthday without his parents there to criticize him was the happiest kind but he couldn't fathom how his parents expected the house elves to keep Sirius in line while they were away. A week after the happy letter, Remus' parents received an invitation for their son to visit Sirius the weekend of his birthday. The letter, written by a fine hand, was signed by Orion Black, assured them their son would be well taken care of and requested a response "at their earliest convenience."

Remus knew the letter by heart. His mother, a muggle-born witch, was shocked to see the Black Family seal on the envelope and had read him the letter over and over in what he supposed was mild shock. Then she proceeded to read it to his father (a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Surrey Division), who crinkled his brow suspiciously while he listened.

Remus couldn't deny that he was shocked by the letter, but the thought that he might be able to see at least one of his friends, one of the people he had come to rely on, gave him a carefree, lighthearted feeling. The prospect of the next full moon didn't seem so daunting with something to look forward to.

But something about the letter bothered him. Even thought he knew from Sirius' letter that his family would be away, there was no mention of that fact in the letter from Mr. Black to _his_ parents. They just assumed that his mother, father and brother Regulus would be at home to celebrate Sirius' birthday. The thought that parents could leave their child alone on a special occasion didn't even enter their minds.

Remus' father, aware of the rumours about the Blacks, was resistant at first, worried about jeopardizing Remus' safety but soon gave his consent at the prodding of his wife, who didn't want to disappoint their son. Remus was outwardly grateful though he was secretly torn about going, only because he had a better idea of what the Blacks were like. But he wanted to go. He wanted to see his mate. He just hoped that the invitation had been authentic. If all the correspondence had been a clever ruse from Sirius, a way to get around his parents – and Remus' – he would kill his mate. Seriously. Dead.

Spotting the shiny black mane bobbing through the crowd, a haughty blonde on one side and – as they neared – an old, stooping house elf in a greying pillowcase tied at the waist with a bit of twine on the other, Remus wasn't sure he wanted to go anymore.

"Who's the blonde?" his father whispered as the odd trio approached, bending a little and covering it up by brushing off his son's shoulders.

"No idea," he managed before they got close enough to hear. From a distance it looked like Narcissa, though there was something different about her. It took him a moment to realize it was Sirius' other cousin, Andromeda. Her hair, though blonde, had a slight strawberry tinge to it and her features, though very similar to her younger sister's, were a little softer.

"Hey, mate!" Sirius called, grinning widely. He hugged Remus with enthusiasm, then nudged his cousin.

"Hello," she said, extending a pale, slim hand towards his father, "I'm Andromeda, Sirius' cousin."

Remus felt his stomach drop and gave his mate a glowering, worried look as his father shook Andromeda's hand and she assured him she would see them back to the Black house safely. (As the family had recently disowned her, Remus didn't see how that was possible.) The house elf, meanwhile, looked miserable, and stood ogling his father with a mad, angry look in her bulging eyes.

"Right then," his father said, clutching one of Remus' shoulders affectionately, you two behave for this lovely young lady." He gestured to Andromeda, who smiled sweetly (completely out of character for a Black). "Have a nice time," he continued, turning to his son and giving him a one-armed hug, "and stay out of trouble."

He pulled away and gave his son a reassuring look, reminding him of his words the night before: '_I'll come and get you if you hate it there – day or night, anytime.'_

Remus smiled back and nodded slightly, acknowledging he understood. "Bye, dad," he said, the queasy feeling in his stomach easing though his guilt grew. "See you here Sunday afternoon."

With that, his father walked away, back towards the alley across the road from the station, where he would Apparate to the Ministry before heading home to Remus' mother.

As soon as his father was out of sight, he rounded on Sirius. "You're parents don't know I'm coming, do they?" he accused, his guilt quickly turning to anger.

Sirius looked taken aback for a moment. He then began to chuckle, which only made Remus angrier.

"They know, they know," he assured him, trying to stifle his laughter.

Andromeda jumped in, assuring him that, according to the house elf Millie (who stood shaking in silent anger), her uncle was well aware he'd be visiting. She told him she was only there at her cousin's request so that his parents wouldn't feel ill at ease leaving their son in the care of a house elf.

"Don't know why," the house elf grumbled in an impossibly high-pitched voice, "I's always taking care o' _this_ brat. Raised him from a pup, _th' ungrateful twit_."

Remus was taken aback. His family had never had house elves, so he wasn't sure how they interacted with their families but he was pretty sure it wasn't like that. Sirius, though, didn't seem bothered by the insult. He ignored the elf and grabbed Remus' bag.

"Andy's got to get back to the baby," he said, heading towards the exit, "but her husband's waiting in the place with all the cars, what's it called?"

"The parking lot," Remus answered, still amused by Sirius' ignorance of the muggle world.

"Yeah, that's it," he agreed, "Anyway, he's going to drive us home." There was childlike excitement in his tone.

The house elf looked horrorstruck. "I is not getting in a thing with one o' _those_," she squeaked, stopping in her tiny tracks.

Andromeda's husband, a muggle-born wizard named Ted, was considered _persona non grata_ to the Blacks. He was, in fact, the very reason Sirius' favourite cousin had been disowned. It seemed the family house elf held the same prejudice on principle.

"You'll get in the car and you'll zip it, hear?" Sirius snapped before resuming the walk to the car lot.

Remus and Andromeda exchanged looks but neither one said a word. From the look on her face, she seemed more concerned with Remus' reaction than minding what the house elf thought of her husband.

The car ride back to the Black Mansion was nerve-wracking for Remus, who had to endure Sirius climbing over his lap to stick his head out the window and gawk at the muggles, whoop loudly at passersby and generally behave like an ass on his first car ride ever. His cousin and her husband, though, found the whole thing amusing. When they finally pulled up to the corner of a non-descript street not far from the station, Sirius and Remus, along with a grumbling Millie, jumped out of the car, thanked the couple and made their way through half a dozen narrow streets before finally stopping on the sidewalk across a small, treed square enclosed by a tall gate. Millie, who'd been disillusioned the whole time with an elven spell that made her visible only to wizards, stepped up on what looked like an empty lot tucked between two houses. As soon as her tiny feet landed on the grassy patch, to Remus' surprise, she disappeared.

"She's gone to unlock the door," Sirius explained.

A moment later, a disembodied arm appeared before them, waving wildly. Sirius grabbed him by the arm and pulled him like so much luggage into the empty space. Before Remus realized it, he was standing in the foyer of the Black family Mansion.

Remus allowed his mate to pull him up the grand staircase to a guest room, where Sirius dumped his case on the floor, then proceeded up another two flights to the fourth floor. The house was a whirlwind of sights: from the elf heads mounted on the walls, to the heavy, antique furnishings, Chinese carpets, decadent wallcoverings and serpentine theme that seemed to be everywhere. The Black Mansion was unlike anything he'd ever seen and despite the menacing nature of the house and the dark, gloomy feeling within, he couldn't help but be impressed. But it didn't strike Remus just how wealthy his mate really was until he entered Sirius' bedroom.

Sirius room was one of one two rooms on the whole of the fourth floor. Remus quickly realized this when they entered. His bed, an intricately carved four-poster luxuriously swathed in a rich eggplant velvet curtains that fell and gathered in drapes and folds onto the fine antique rug, sat in the middle of what must have been a turret, the conical shape rising higher than the rest of the room's still-high ceilings. A large mantled fireplace took up the wall nearest the door and a wide, mahogany tallboy took up another. At the end of the room, which seemed to continue around the corner, a small (but no less fine) writing desk sat bathed in light from the many windows that lined the turret walls. The room, Remus surmised, was about ten times as large as his own attic bedroom and about a thousand times finer.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed, unable to repress his shock as his eyes roamed around the room and fell once again on the bed.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" Sirius scoffed dismissively, misinterpreting Remus' remark as a criticism. "But I've got some Gryffindor colours – see?" He pointed to a scarlet and gold banner draped above the headboard. He then dove into his school trunk, which lay open (and, Remus noticed, still packed) by the foot of the bed. A moment later, he pulled out a small mirror.

"We have to call James," he said excitedly. "He didn't think you'd actually show up."

Remus sat down beside him on the floor and peered over Sirius' shoulder. "Why not?" he asked, feeling a little insulted.

His friends always teased him about never taking any chances and he supposed that's what James had meant. He wondered why it never occurred to them that he'd taken a huge chance in second year telling them he was a werewolf.

"Guess he figured you wouldn't believe me."

Remus placed his hand over the mirror, suddenly reminded about his doubts. "Yes," he said, "about that…"

Sirius smiled rather wickedly. The anxious feeling in Remus' stomach was instantly back.

"It's all true, mate. My mum and Regulus are currently in a seaside resort as we speak. If I'm lucky, my brother'll push her off a cliff."

Remus stifled a smile and plowed on, still not convinced. "And your father?"

"He never stays. He'll probably be home sometime today."

When Remus gave him a worried look, Sirius went on.

"Don't worry," he said assuredly, "he'll stay out of our way."

His tone and his words gave Remus a bad feeling. "What've you done?" he asked suddenly.

Sirius tried for an innocent look but Remus wasn't having it. He glowered at his mate like he had at the station.

"Let's just say, I've got the old man in my pocket." He patted the square of cloth on his chest absently.

Remus noticed the pocket was stiff and boxy. "What is that?" he asked, his tone purposely accusatory.

Sirius suddenly had the same look on his face he always had when he was caught. He promptly dropped his hand to his side. "Nothing," he said a little too quickly to be convincing.

Remus knew his mate well enough to know whatever lay hidden in Sirius' pocket was probably something he didn't want to know about. But he_ had_ to know.

"Alright," he said sternly, standing for emphasis, "either you tell me everything – NOW – or I go home."

Sirius looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. "Don't be stupid, Moony – "

Before he had a chance to finish, Remus had turned and stalked out of the bedroom. He continued down the corridor and down two flights of stairs, finding himself on the second floor with a possibility of closed doors around him. Determined to make his point, he peered into each room, until he spotted his suitcase lying on the floor where his mate had dropped it in the last room at the end of the corridor. Sirius, meanwhile, had followed him, trying to reason with him all the while, though to Remus, "stop being such a silly twat," wasn't really the most convincing argument. It was only when Remus had his suitcase in hand that Sirius finally relented.

"Okay! Okay!" he shouted, slamming the door behind him, "I'll tell you!"

Remus gave him an inscrutable look and waited.

Sirius sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You don't really want to know," he began.

Remus pushed him aside and grabbed the door handle.

"Alright!"

Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him away from the door, pulling Remus' suitcase out of his hands and placing it gingerly on the floor. Remus watched with growing impatience as his mate reached into his pocket and extracted a small pile of photographs, holding them close to his chest guardedly.

"I found them on my father's desk, in his study," he began, "he had them laying out in the open – _the git_ – so I swiped 'em."

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius didn't give him a chance.

"Before you lecture me, I'll have you know, this was the only way." He held them out, turned over, towards Remus. "See for yourself, if you _must._"

Remus reached out and took the small square pile, feeling uneasy. He turned them over slowly, bracing himself for a shock and wasn't disappointed. A semi-nude woman lay out on a chaise lounge, batting her eyelashes seductively at the camera. Remus felt his cheeks burn as he averted his eyes.

"Who's this?" he asked, more out of the need for something to say than actual curiousity.

"She was our governess – mine and Regulus' – when we were younger."

He gave a rueful grimace as he said it. Remus wondered if it was the same woman Sirius used to talk about in First Year. Sirius had had a crush on her.

"There's more," his mate stated. Remus felt a little horrified. He knew Sirius hated his parents but guessed his mate must be feeling confused about finding evidence of his father's cheating. He didn't want to look at any more photographs but felt obligated since his mate had already looked at them. Merlin only knew what Sirius really thought.

Remus slipped the first photo to the back of the pile and was greeted with another shot of the same woman, in a negligee, sitting up on the same ivory chaise, blowing a kiss. There were three more photos in the pile, each of a different woman, all in different states of undress, and two of them obviously muggle. Remus slipped the last photo to the back of the pile and handed them back to his friend.

"Sorry, mate," he said softly, unsure of what else to say.

Sirius looked surprised. "Sorry?" he quipped, "are you kidding me, mate? This is the best thing to happen to me in a _very_ long time." He looked genuinely pleased with himself. Remus didn't know what to think.

"Moony, these are better than gold," he explained, "like a_'get-outta-jail-free'_ card!"

Remus was impressed he remembered that card, as Sirius had never really gotten the hang of Peter's muggle game.

"Or a Get-out-of-the-family-trip card," Remus quipped, deciding not to get moral on his mate.

"Exactly." Sirius smiled widely and looked relieved. "So, are you staying?"

Remus looked into the wide grey eyes. He didn't agree with his friend's actions (he couldn't fathom blackmailing_ his _own father) but he didn't really want to go. He knew, in his heart, that there was no way on earth (or beyond) that he would standing in the Black Family Mansion if Sirius hadn't played his hand. "I'll stay," he answered softly.

Sirius whooped loudly and grabbed him by the hand. "Excellent!"

Remus let his friend lead him back to the first floor, the anxious feeling gone, replaced by that all-too-familiar feeling he had when he was about to embark on another adventure with his mates.

_ He _was in the Black Family Mansion. As a guest. _Him_. A _werewolf_.

Remus smiled to himself, feeling a rush of happiness at being with his friend. Orion Black be damned, he thought, he was determined to have a good time.

* * *

(**1**) In _The Gift_, when Sirius breaks into Gryffindor Tower on Halloween and is scared off by Ron (as per canon in **_PoA_**), he runs into Sophie in the Common Room and has no choice but to take her hostage. They end up hiding out in the Room of Requirement, which has transformed into Mr. Potter's study – a place Sirius always felt safe. (Chapter 16: Last Goodbye)

Coming Soon: chapter seven, in which things happen and happen some more...(sorry, can't think...)

TTFN!


	7. Chapter 7: A Light in the Darkness

**A/N: **This chapter picks up where the other left off. I realized, after rereading chapter 6, that it seemed unfinished (even though it was longer than usual), so instead of skipping ahead (which I have a bad habit of doing), I decided to take my time with this part of the story.

Also, there was a mistake - again! In the flashback, it reads _August, 1975_. It's actually August 1974. That's corrected in this chapter.

BTW, I hope this answers/satisfies _rockstar-101_'s questions. Thanx for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** It's so cold and depressing up here yet I've managed to keep my sanity. I still don't own HP. Just borrowing.

* * *

**Chapter 7: **A Light in the Darkness**  
**

"Wow," Sophie deadpanned, "that wasn't at all awkward."

Remus turned to see a mixture of embarrassment and mirth in her eyes. The image of Orion Black and a very naked woman had faded away, the memory evaporated from the pensieve.

"Imagine seeing it live," Sirius countered darkly, peering into the basin of the pensieve. "It's gone."

Remus, who'd shot him a warning look he hadn't caught, stepped closer and peered in, though he already knew it was empty. "It was left out too long," he commented, "I'm surprised it lasted so many years."

"Lucky for us, eh?" Sirius said snidely.

Sophie let out what Remus supposed was a chuckle, though it sounded oddly stilted.

Sirius tore his eyes away from the pedestal and fixed Sophie with a curious look, as if he'd just remembered she was there.

"Sophie," Remus addressed her, deciding instantly he didn't want her there, "maybe it's best if you go back to bed." He gave her a meaningful look and she seemed to understand, moving a little uncertainly at first, as if she wanted to protest but then leaving quietly from the room.

Remus could hear the distinctive squeak of floorboards from above as she walked back to her room. He stood listening as Sirius hovered around the room, leaning in cautiously towards the glass-fronted cabinets and examining the contents by the light of his borrowed wand.

"I'm pretty sure she's safely tucked in," Sirius commented after a moment, "come here."

Remus chose to ignore the snappish tone and joined his mate by a cabinet. He peered in and noticed the tiny glistening bottles, all lined up in rows, each bearing a label. Some of them were marked only with dates, others with names and still more with a form of shorthand which Remus supposed, from the dates attached, was Orion's writing.

Remus eyes fell on a bottle, marked '_DL '75'_, just as Sirius leaned in.

"Do you reckon?" he whispered, unsettled.

Remus nodded and Sirius reached in, carefully extracting the tiny bottle from the overflowing shelf. He turned back to the pensieve, and began to uncork the bottle.

"Wait." Remus, worried about keeping the integrity of the memory, searched his mind for a protective spell. He quickly remembered one and went to work.

Sirius waited for the last flourish of his wand before he pulled out the stopper and slowly poured the silvery liquid into the clean basin. Then he repeated his movements, pulling up the new memory. They watched as Orion's ghostly form rose up. His lips moved but they heard nothing, though even if they had, they probably never would have listened, as they were busy gaping at the other ghostly figure, the '_D.L._' on the label – Lord Voldemort.

"We need to get Dumbledore," Sirius stated, his eyes darkening at the sight of his father and the vile, evil wizard chatting soundlessly in front of them.

"I'll do it," Remus volunteered, a cold, clammy feeling coming over him.

He quickly stepped out of the secret room and towards the kitchen fireplace (the only safe connection to the floo network in the house so far), leaving his friend alone with the image of the man who ruined his life flickering before him in the dark.

* * *

Remus was exhausted. He hadn't slept for the past two nights, instead sitting up with Sirius talking the first night and spending the next exploring the almost empty house. Orion Black, Sirius' father, was somewhere in the large mansion, keeping out of their way, just as Sirius had promised. 

Remus was grateful he'd seen the patriarch only once. Orion Black had insisted on meeting him and had sized him up with a look so cold and cutting, Remus felt himself simultaneously deflate and shrink three inches from the glare. It had been a short introduction and five truly terrifying minutes, Remus afraid all the while that Sirius' father would recognize him for what he was. But he hadn't. In those five minutes, Remus realized where his mate had gotten his own malicious mien (though he made sure not to mention it) and he also realized that Sirius, as good as he was at '_the look'_, still had a long way to go.

"Remus," came Sirius' voice from the other side of the room, "you awake?"

Remus, who lay in a makeshift bed on the floor of his mate's bedroom, (where he'd slept since arriving, the guest bedroom he'd been shown to his first day there unused) considered not answering. If he did, Sirius would surely drag him out of bed. But if he didn't, Sirius might jump on him until he did and he really didn't fancy any Sirius-shaped bruises. He decided to answer.

"What is it, Padfoot?" he asked wearily. Considering the full moon was less than a week away, he really needed his sleep.

"I'll be fourteen in six minutes."

"Good for you."

"Wanna celebrate?"

He blinked his eyes open, the ceiling coming into focus. "Now?"

"No, next week!" came the sarcastic reply, "Of course now!"

Remus considered the request silently, knowing full well it wasn't a request but a declaration. Sirius would be dragging him out of bed any minute now.

"What are we doing?" he asked. He didn't even try to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

He heard the distinctive sound of squeaking bedsprings and Sirius was hovering over him a second later. "Come on," he said, flinging off Remus' covers unceremoniously, "It's a surprise!"

Remus knew he'd hate it. Before he had a chance to protest, he was being dragged down the stairs and towards a large solid door. A locked door.

"What's in there?" he whispered.

"My dad's study," Sirius answered, employing his wand in an odd way.

"What are you doing?"

"Picking the lock."

Remus had a bad feeling as he watched Sirius jam the end of his wand through what should have been a keyhole but wasn't. Sirius whispered under his breath and a moment later the door inched open.

"Come on."

Remus looked up and down the darkened corridor. "I don't think this is a good idea," he understated in a harsh whisper. He was now most definitely awake. "Your father's in the house, if he finds us…"

"He won't."

Sirius took him by the hand (Remus couldn't remember being handled so much in so little time) and pulled him into the dark room. He looked around, making out the large desk, a tall lamp in the corner and the imposing fireplace, which still had embers burning green. It was obvious his father had only just left and it made Remus very nervous.

"Aha!"

Remus turned, startled, as Sirius stood next to a low cabinet across the room, a full bottle of _Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey_ in his hand. _Shite_, he thought. _This is definitely a bad idea_.

"Put that back!" he scolded in a harsh whisper, "What if your father notices it missing?"

Sirius' grey eyes shone mischievously in the dark. He shrugged, grabbed Remus by the shirt and pulled him out of the room, the bottle firmly gripped in the other hand. They made their way quietly back up the stairs to his mate's room, Remus holding his breath as they passed the third floor. He noticed a slow murmur of noise as they passed, the distinctive strip of light coming from underneath a bedroom door, and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock sitting on the third landing. As they walked by, Remus thought he heard a strange metallic grinding coming from inside. Suddenly, the glass door on the front of the clock popped open and bolts began to fly out.

"Oof!" Ouch!"

One after another, bolts and springs from inside the clock flew through the air, pinging off the walls, embedding into the shiny banister and into soft teenage skin. They ran up the stairs, Sirius shielding the bottle with his body, and getting a bolt to the skull for his trouble. They scrambled into the bedroom, terrified, then Sirius tapped his wand to the doorknob and Remus heard a soft click. They stood at the door, listening intently for any noise.

"Anything?" Sirius whispered, his eyes wide. He recognized the mixture of fear and excitement in them.

Remus closed his eyes and pressed his ear to the door. There was no sound – no footsteps on the stairs, and even the clock seemed to have stopped its assault.

"Nothing." He relaxed a little. "What the hell was that?"

Sirius grimaced. "Mother," he said in disgust. "Her way of keeping me in line."

Sirius disappeared around the corner towards the bathroom and returned with two glasses in one hand and bandages in the other.

"So, up for it?" he asked, holding out the bottle and shaking it seductively.

Remus knew he had a choice. He could refuse. He'd never had a drink before and wasn't about to start right under Orion Black's nose. He knew he had a choice but Sirius' stare told him differently.

"Fine," he relented, giving in easily, "just one." He reached out to grab the bandages. "Injuries first!"

Sirius smirked and poured the firewhiskey, the glasses looking more full than they should, while Remus bandaged his mate's arms, covered in small bloody welts, and his own injuries, which included, unluckily for him, an embedded bolt just above his collarbone. Sirius watched with fascination as Remus pulled it out with his bare hands, digging his fingers into his flesh, the shiny bolt making a sick squelching sound as he wrested it free from his body.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Sirius asked as Remus stuck a large bandage to the stinging wound.

Remus looked up, and Sirius seemed to realize it was a stupid question. He shrugged and handed Remus a glass.

"Have you ever, I mean, before?" Remus asked uncertainly, fingering the crystal tumbler and wondering if his mate made this kind of thing a habit.

"Well, no," Sirius answered, fingering the long bandage on his arm, which had a long superficial cut down the side, "but there's always a first time." He dropped his hand and held up the glass with the other. "To me," he said and then downed the contents in one large gulp.

Remus watched as Sirius' face went from serene to panicked in a second. His eyes bulged out of his head and his face turned beet red as he shook his head violently. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, a shudder seizing his tall, slender frame.

"Excellent!"

He turned his watery eyes to Remus and watched him expectantly. Remus, hesitating, brought the glass up to his lips.

"Wait!" Sirius chided, "What about my toast?"

Remus cracked a smile, despite his nerves (and his injuries), and quickly thought up something fitting. "To my mate, Sirius Orion Black," he said with mock pomposity, "either the most courageous boy I've ever met," he paused a beat, "or the thickest!"

Sirius rolled his eyes and goaded him on to drink. Remus, feeling braver (or as thickheaded as his mate, he didn't know which) gulped down his glass of firewhiskey, choking mid-gulp at the burning sensation that seared down his throat and into his stomach. His body shuddered involuntarily as he gasped and coughed, the gash at his collarbone suddenly tingling with heat. He couldn't believe people actually liked this stuff.

"You okay, Moony?"

Remus blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes, and looked up to see a very amused Sirius peering at him through a curtain of disheveled black hair.

He didn't answer, only held out the glass, still half-full, towards his mate. Sirius leaned forward and filled the glass to the top and then poured himself another, all the while smiling widely.

Remus, in dire need of a glass of water (or a Time-Turner), thrust the glass back, the contents spilling over the side and onto his hand. "Take it, you git!" he wheezed, bent over from coughing.

Sirius eyed him then took the glass. "Is that any way to treat your mate on his birthday?" he asked, acting hurt.

The warm honey-coloured liquid dripped down his arm into his sleep shirt, stinging the nicks on his arm he hadn't noticed. _Great_, he thought, finally catching his breath, _I look like I've been in a fight and__ now I smell like a pub. Mom's going to kill me._ His mother had a way of sniffing out anything odd (like the smell of tobacco permeated into his winter cloak in third year). With her keen senses, it was like _she_ was the werewolf, not him.

Remus didn't want to speak. He only glared.

"Fine," Sirius shrugged, "more for me." He quickly downed the contents of both glasses.

An hour later, Remus watched with building panic as Sirius sang a Gryffindor cheer at the top of his lungs while jumping up and down on his bed.

"Go! Go! Gryffindor! Mighty Lions, hear them roar!"

Remus was sure Sirius' father, only one floor down, would come up to investigate the noise at any moment.

"Sirius!" he begged, as frightening scenarios played in his mind, "Sirius, quit it! You'll get us killed!"

The last word seemed to have a sobering affect on his drunken mate. "_Killed_, Moony?" he repeated. "Who would do such a thing?" He stumbled off his four-poster, hit the floor and rolled towards Remus. "Oh, yeah."

"Sirius," he said looking down and trying not to laugh (despite his panic) at the sight of Sirius sprawled at his feet, "you've said yourself, many times, your father would throttle you if he found out half the stuff you do. He's right under us, _you git_, he could be up here any minute!"

The old house gave Remus a bad feeling, every shift and creak convincing him it was Orion Black stalking up the stairs to check on them.

"He can kiss my _arse_," Sirius said loudly into the antique rug, "I know what he's done. He can't tell me what to do anymore!"

Remus finally understood. This was Sirius dealing with the photographs.

He knelt down on the colourful rug and helped Sirius sit up. "Is this how you want to remember your fourteenth birthday?" he asked gently, "drunk because you're angry with your father?"

Sirius, whose eyes were a glassy grey, blinked and rubbed his head. "I hate 'm, Moony," he whispered, "I really fuckin' hate 'm."

"I know," he whispered back. He circled his arms around his mate's shoulders. "But don't let him ruin this weekend. Don't let him ruin our last day – _your_ birthday. He's not worth it."

Sirius sighed heavily and leaned into him. He was quiet for a long time, until finally he broke the sobering silence.

"Moony," he whispered.

"What is it, mate?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

* * *

Sophie awoke the next day to the sleep-deprived faces of Sirius and her father. They'd spent the early hours of morning in the secret room, poring over memories. She'd known, because she'd heard them murmuring for hours, with long quiet pauses she guessed had something to do with another discovery. Of course, they hadn't shared anything with her at breakfast, only the news that Dumbledore would be there later that afternoon. Sophie, for her part, did her best not to ask too many questions. She was curious, but from the little she'd seen in the room and the dark, ominous feeling that had stolen over her as they stood in the semi-darkness of the long forgotten room, she really didn't want to know what they'd found. 

When she'd returned to her room, the rasping noises had subsided but the ominous feeling lingered. It was odd, and it reminded her of the feeling she used to get from some of the werewolves in the pack back in Ireland. Something about them had made her uneasy yet pulled at her dark side like a magnet. It was the same feeling she'd had last night. It was the same feeling that had lingered all day.

"Sophie?"

She whirled around towards the familiar voice, causing a cloud of dust to rise up into the air of a cavernous bedroom on the third floor.

"Professor!" she exclaimed, truly surprised to see her old Head of House, Minerva McGonagall standing in the old, dark mansion.

Professor McGonagall greeted her with a thin smile. "I see Mr. Black has put you to work," she commented, taking in Sophie's dust-covered, grimy appearance.

"We're getting a few rooms ready for the Weasleys," she answered, still excited by the news that her mates and their family would be making Headquarters their home for the summer. She was even glad to hear that Hermione Granger would be joining them.

"Oh, yes, I heard," she said, sounding a little disapproving. Sophie remembered that she always sounded that way when it came to Fred and George. "It should be an interesting summer with the lot of them here," she went on, taking a turn around the room, "Those friends of yours, the twins, should get along very well with their host."

Sophie thought it an odd thing to say but didn't ask the Professor to elaborate. "Are you here with the Headmaster?" she asked instead.

"Hmm," she hummed distractedly, staring for a moment at rune-covered object permanently stuck to the top of a chest of drawers, "Whose room was this?"

Sophie recognized a few of the characters (something about blood and royalty) on the strange vase-like object, which Sirius had tried - and failed - to get rid of that morning. "It was Sirius' mother's," she answered, still waiting for an answer to her question.

McGonagall studied the piece a moment longer, made a small sound of disgust and gave her attention back to Sophie.

"I'm actually here for a reason, Miss Lupin," she said, diving into her cloak pocket. She extracted an official-looking envelope. "Your results," she announced, stretching out her hand.

Sophie felt a wave of excitement come over her, followed by a wave of nausea.

"Go on," her former Transfiguration professor urged, "Let's see how well you've done."

Sophie reached out a shaking hand and took the envelope. It was the moment she'd been waiting for, the moment she'd dreamed of and looked forward to since leaving Hogwarts a year ago. Taking a deep breath, she broke the seal and unfolded the thick parchment. As her eyes skimmed the page, she couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh.

"Eight," she said, looking up at McGonagall, "Eight 'O's." Sophie had qualified for all her subjects.

"Congratulations, my dear," came a voice from the doorway. Dumbledore was standing at the threshold, her father and Sirius to either side of him.

Sophie smiled as her father pulled her into a hug. "I never had any doubts," he whispered, a genuine smile lighting up his pale, drawn face.

When Sophie pulled away from her father, she noticed the others with glasses in their hands. Sirius conjured two more and thrust them into her and her father's hands.

"Cheers," he said, lifting his glass. The others did the same.

"Thanks," she mumbled, trying to subdue her delight. She was now a fully licensed, practicing witch.

Sirius gulped down the liquid, while the others took small sips. Sophie put the glass to her lips and took a small sip as well. She expected burning but was pleasantly surprised by the smoothness of the bitter-tasting liquid. _Definitely not firewhiskey_, she noted.

"There's only one thing left to say," Dumbledore added, taking another sip.

Sophie looked at him expectantly.

"Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

* * *

The next chapter may or may not deal with Sophie's ominous feeling (still trying to figure that one out) and not to worry, Sirius may have some good news of his own very soon... 

I'm getting alot of hits but little reviews, so taking a cue from other writers, anyone who leaves a review (one word will do - as long as it's not a nasty one) will get a drunken Sirius serenading them at the top of his lungs :) - "Go! Go! Gryffindor! Mighty lions, hear them roar!"


	8. Chapter 8: Words & Meanings

**A/N:**Here it is, another chapter for your enjoyment. I've been having trouble with this site. Is it just me or what? It's completely frustrating, especially since it took me forever just to log in. Hopefully, it's not just me & it will be fixed soon. If not, I'm not sure when I'll be posting the next chapter…

**Disclaimer**: Still not her. Just borrowing

XxXxXxXxXxX

**Chapter 8**: Words & Meanings

The seven words that had been spoken by Dumbledore left Sophie so excited and anxious that night, she hadn't been able to sleep. She'd been so focused on getting into the Order that she hadn't allowed herself to concentrate on anything else. The cleaning and other preparations within the house – as tedious and tiring as they were, she hadn't complained, knowing everything she did would lead her to that moment, but lying in bed, watching the shadows on the ceiling as traffic moved down Grimmauld occasionally, she couldn't help but wonder, what now?

She had an idea, from the little her father had told her of his time in the Order, of what to expect. She knew some of what she would be asked to do might be dangerous, but she also knew that what she was currently doing (the mind-numbingly tedious tasks) were part of being a member as well. Unable to sleep, she let her imagination run wild picturing dangerous assignments stealthily tracking suspected Death Eaters, her ruminations informed by the spy movies she'd seen on late night television on her grandmother's old black and white as a child. A part of her knew it was silly, but unable to sleep, she allowed herself to indulge in fantasy. It was better, after all, than the grim reality of the Black Manor, with its decades of grime and darkness. Still, despite her wild imagination, she never envisioned what awaited her the next day.

She was summoned to the kitchen early the next morning and she was greeted by an old, grizzled ex-Auror, who after an abrupt introduction (and a moment of awkward gawping) immediately drilled her on spells and defensive techniques. Had she known there'd be a quiz, she would have studied, and had she known that was the way she'd be introduced to the notorious Mad Eye Moody, she would have prepared herself for the shock. Instead, under the intense gaze of the old man's roving eye (that swiveled sickeningly quick in his head and made her slightly nauseous) she'd become nervous, distracted and worse yet, a complete and utter dolt. Every defensive spell she'd memorized (until she could do them in her sleep) seemed to escape her mind, so that, to the very experienced dark wizard-catcher, she seemed like an ill-prepared _child_. As Moody declared she needed to "bone up" on her skills (which received a smirk from Sirius and a subtle cuff on the back of his head from her father), Sophie wanted to crawl under a rock (or the kitchen table) and die of embarrassment, then die again when he assigned Sirius Black as her mentor. According to Moody, it was the only way for her to avoid "facing certain death."

If only her father had warned her, she thought irritably as she finished folding the last of the clean linen three days later in preparation for their coming guests, she wouldn't be stuck in number twelve Grimmauld Place while her father traveled to Ottery St. Catchpole to retrieve the Weasleys alone. She was looking forward to seeing her mates, Fred and George, and had wanted to join him on his journey to escort them back but had another reason for wanting to accompany her father. The Diggorys lived in that village and Cedric's grave was there. She hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye and wanted to pay her respects. It was the one thing, besides the Order, that had occupied her mind lately. Some part of her still couldn't believe it was true. She needed to see his tomb for herself. She needed to see it to let it finally sink in.

With Sophie's father suddenly in and out of headquarters at all hours, she and Sirius had spent the last three days ridding the rooms on the fourth floor (one of them being his own) of every doxy, rat and black object they could (though with the muggle posters of half-naked women and shiny motorcycles plastering the walls they were less successful), training in defensive magic and getting on each other's nerves. This was the most time she'd spent with the man – ever – and she found the longer she spent with him, the more she saw glimpses of the man he'd once been. Though he had become increasingly moody, morose and prone to barking orders since stepping foot in that house, Sophie had seen him smile and laugh, his face lighting up like her father's did when he was content, the premature years melting away. It made her wonder about the kind of man he used to be. Having grown up never knowing her father's connection to the notorious Sirius Black, she'd never heard any stories about him, only about James and Peter, but from the tales of pranks and mischief, Sophie had deduced he was probably one of the worst. Seeing the state he'd left his bedroom in before running away at the age of sixteen (a fact he told her proudly), only served to make her more certain.

Sophie, caught up in her thoughts as she worked, slowly became aware of his presence just outside the open bedroom door.

"Are you going to stand out there all day?" she asked, raising her voice. She'd meant for the question to come out amused but she realized she sounded cheeky.

Sirius appeared in the doorway, his grey eyes dark and probing. "Are _you_ going to fuss about in this room all day or are you going to finish your training?"

Sophie stifled a smirk. "We both know I don't need it," she stated simply.

A dark brow shot up. "Not what Moody thinks," he commented dryly.

She rolled her eyes and tried to push away the lingering humiliation she felt every time she thought about that day in the kitchen. It seemed so far away (and it seemed like another person) even though it had only been a few days ago.

"Should I curse you again to prove my point?" she asked, this time with deliberate cheek, referring to the monumental knocking on his _arse_ she'd put him through during her first training session.

Sirius held up his hands in mock surrender. "Well, if you'd rather fluff pillows 'til they get here…"

Sirius moved into the room, and she was aware of his probing eyes almost burning into the back of her head as he watched her every move.

"Not really," she answered, placing a stack of sheets into the cupboard that only yesterday morning had been lined neatly with his brother's clothes. _Not at all_, she thought grimly. She was going mad in that house.

"It's interesting how very like your old man you are," he commented, suddenly changing the subject.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Everything in its place, lined up _just so_ – it's completely Moony."

Sophie couldn't help but turn around and study him. There was something like cruel amusement in his eyes. It suddenly irked her.

"You think you know me, _Mr. Black_?" she asked before she realized what she was saying. The full moon was less than a week away and her lycan senses (including the incredibly touchy ones) were strong.

Sirius smirked and stepped closer, an intense curiousity suddenly sparking in his grey eyes. "I would never presume, _Miss Lupin_, to think I know you," he answered silkily, a subtle smirk on his face. The combination made him look younger still and she found herself softening, despite her irritation, under his gaze.

"Good," she uttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She turned away and closed the cupboard doors slowly just for something to do.

"I suppose we can just sit around and wait for the Weasleys. It's only, what," – he consulted his watch, a large, masculine platinum one he'd found in a drawer in his room – "_four_ hours away."

The thought of spending four more hours in that house weighed heavily on her nerves. She suddenly felt like she wouldn't last four more minutes.

"Why don't we go out?" she blurted out suddenly, whipping around and startling Sirius, who backed away instinctively. The irksome feelings she'd been building up slowly for days were slowly dissolving away. She'd been dreaming about an escape for days, ever since being indefinitely condemned to headquarters.

"We can't." It looked like it pained him to say it.

"Why not?"

His looked away and began to pace at the threshold. "Your father would kill me if I put you in danger," he said finally, locking eyes with her. She could tell he had been thinking of Dumbledore's warning to him about the dangers of leaving the house but had decided not to voice it.

"How would he know, I mean, you're an animagus, it would look like I was taking my dog for a walk, we'd go somewhere wizards never go, and we'd be back before anyone else." As the words tumbled out of her mouth, she realized some part of her had been planning it for days. She also realized she sounded slightly desperate.

Sirius stopped his pacing, though he had a faraway look on his face. Sophie could tell he was having a struggle between his sense and his more mischievous side.

"Where would we go?" he asked finally, "I mean, it can't be around here, and no where wizards were likely to be."

"I know the perfect place," she answered, feeling suddenly buoyant, like a child who was about to ride the Ferris wheel at the fair for the first time. A child who was afraid of heights and had snuck away from her parents to do it.

"Alright," he said, giving in, "let's go."

**8888888**

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius, as Padfoot, was happily trolling along beside Sophie as she navigated the busy side streets of a posh London neighbourhood on the other side of the city. Sirius thought he recognized the area (and wondered briefly how she knew it) but it had been so long since he'd been in London, and things did look different four feet lower, so he couldn't be sure where they were. The bright summer sun was beating down on the grey cement, which was warm under his sensitive paws. Sirius was grateful it was still early enough in the morning that the city streets weren't too heated up. From the feel of the sun on his black, glossy back, he knew that by noon it would be much too hot for a large, black shaggy dog to be frolicking in the sun. Sophie led him by the leash (which he'd consented to wear only after she convinced him that a dog as imposing as Padfoot roaming free would attract too much attention) to a large grassy park tucked neatly between rows of houses on either side of the street. It was larger than Grimmauld Square, unfenced and looked well cared for and teaming with muggles. The grass had been recently cut and the smell of it was overpowering his canine senses.

Sophie led him to a cluster of trees, where she sat down on a bench in the shade of a low bough. She unhooked the leash, nudged him away and Sirius surrendered to his alter ego, running and chasing birds, rolling around in the freshly-cut grass and feeling the breeze graze his fur as he galloped around the park, a feeling of elation overcoming any anxiety he'd been feeling. For a long while Sophie sat and watched him, smiling and laughing as he interacted with other dogs, all unleashed, who were curious about him. One dog, a small chocolate Lab, bravely drew near, sniffed him cautiously and nosed him hard in the ribs in what Sirius had come to learn was disapproval. The dog knew he wasn't what he seemed, just like the others, but this dog was the only one of its kind bold enough to let him know it. It was then that Sophie got up and led him away to a less crowded patch of grass, seeming to sense the canine hostility. She then sat down once more in the shade and watched as he chased a butterfly. Sirius, though still a dog, noticed her red-rimmed eyes, the heavy lids, the pale skin, and shaking hands when he came back towards her and she reached out and tentatively stroked his fur, her hazel eyes searching his large grey orbs for permission. He consented, leaning his large body into her touch and she scratched him gently behind the ears, much the way she had the first time she'd seen his animagus form. As Sirius, it would have taken him much longer to realize what Padfoot could easily sense. The wolf was pushing up to the surface, the effects of the impending full moon starting to show.

Sirius laid his head at her feet on the warm earth, letting the hum of the city that seemed so far away, lull him slowly into a stupor as he listened to the distant cars streaming by, the sounds of children playing football nearby creating a calming drone. _I'll let her rest_, he thought, as her fingers grazed his back, the tips curling into soft fur. _Just for a moment, I'll let her rest, then we'll head back_. That was the last thought in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

Sirius awoke with a start a few hours later, the sun having moved from its highest point in the clear sky, behind the line of trees. For a moment he forgot he was Padfoot but he quickly remembered, the side of his canine face brushing against a canvas trainer. Sophie's. He suddenly remembered where they were, and panicking, he jumped to his feet and nudged Sophie, who sat with her head resting on the back of the wooden bench, asleep and peaceful, until she stirred. Pulling on the hem of her jeans, Padfoot made his intentions to leave clear. It took her a minute to realize where they were before she too was on her feet and running across the grassy lawn towards the alley where they had Apparated earlier that morning.

"Shite!" she whispered roughly under her breath as she looked up at the sky. She wasn't wearing a watch, which Sirius hadn't noticed until now. _Fuck_, he thought as he galloped alongside her, the leash unattached and dangling loosely in her hand. _Fuck._

"Relax," she whispered as he stepped behind a large rubbish bin. "It's not that late." The note of panic in her voice belied her words of comfort.

Padfoot looked up at the afternoon sun and worried that it was. He crouched low; allowing Sophie to wrap her long, thin arms around his massive black body and Disapparate. They Apparated to a safe spot in Grimmauld Square and he shot out of the neglected park, praying that they were back in time. He was aware of Sophie close behind him, her steps barely audible but her breathing laboured as she struggled to keep up.

It was then that he sensed it – the distinct scent of Remus Lupin lingering in the air. As he came to a sudden stop, he looked up and noticed Sophie's face. She, too, had sensed her father.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

It was obvious Remus and the Weasleys had recently stepped into headquarters.

"What now?"

Sirius had to think quickly. He pulled at the hem of her jeans once more, urging her to move, and he strode quickly up to the steps he knew were there but couldn't see.

The house rumbled into view and Sophie, stealing a cautious glance up and down the street, ran up the cracked steps as he transformed back to his usual form. Holding his borrowed wand, and standing in bare feet, a pair of worn black trousers and a thin black shirt (the only outfit that transfigured easily) he tapped his wand and quietly pulled her into the house behind him.

The foyer was empty as they slipped into the house, which Sirius was grateful for, and they padded quietly to the staircase and up the stairs, listening intently for any sound of Remus or their expected guests.

"The kitchen?" Sophie mouthed, standing on the second landing.

It made the most sense that Remus would have led them there first.

"I'll go up and change," he whispered, "you go down to the basement. I'll be there soon."

Sophie nodded and started down the stairs.

"Wait!" he hissed, grabbing her by the arm. She stiffened suddenly and jerked away.

He was taken aback by her response but didn't have time to give it much thought. "You've got grass in your hair," he explained, reaching out to pull the errant blade from her honey blonde strands.

"Thanks," she mumbled as he held up the evidence. She gave a faint smile and walked away.

The rosy faces of six red-haired Weasleys and a suddenly shy Hermione Granger (who seemed taken aback by his enthusiastic greeting) met him as he walked into the kitchen five minutes later, having changed into the exact clothes he'd been wearing that morning. After a round of introductions, he led them up to the first floor and almost managed to get the large brood past his mother's portrait without waking her until one of the twins, curious about a set of drapes in the middle of a corridor, lifted up one side and recoiled at the sight, knocking into the ill-placed troll's leg umbrella stand and causing a ruckus that was added to by his mother's nasty words.

Remus and Sophie, having had too much experience in the last couple of weeks, quickly shut the drapes and all was quiet in the Black Manor, save for the swearing under the breath of every Weasley male.

The Weasleys and Granger settled into their rooms quietly, perhaps subdued by his mother's shrieking – Ginny and Hermione sharing a room on the second floor, Ron taking his father's room above them, the twins settling into his brother's room (which Sophie had carefully prepared) and, after much debate over taking his mother's bedroom, Arthur and Molly finally settling into the third guest room on the second floor.

Sirius managed to avoid Remus the rest of the day, too busy with Molly Weasley, who insisted on sitting down with him and making out a plan of attack for the rest of the house. Though he found her enthusiasm for cleaning a little revolting, he was secretly grateful for the distraction. He could have sworn his mate had eyed Sophie suspiciously once or twice when he asked how she'd spent her time that day. He didn't want Remus' perceptive eyes examining him. It wasn't until they turned in for the night that he and Remus finally spoke.

"How has Sophie's training been going?" Remus asked casually as he carefully folded down the sheets on his bed.

"You know she doesn't need it, mate," he replied lightly, wondering if Remus suspected anything. He was usually very good at figuring out when Sirius was trying to hide something.

Remus didn't acknowledge him, only continued to settle into bed.

"She'll be fine."

"Will she?" Remus asked, putting his weight on one arm and turning to face Sirius, who was sitting on the edge of his own bed.

"She's more skilled than most at that age."

Remus smirked. "Yeah, I heard about the first training session."

Sirius pulled a pillow off his bed and threw it across the room, hitting Remus squarely in the face.

Remus took his time pulling the pillow away and flinging it back so that it landed beside his bed on the floor as Sirius chuckled heartily.

"Don't you think you're a bit old for that," he said snarkily.

Sirius could hear the shift in his tone, the sudden irritation his mate was feeling evident in his stiff limbs. _It's the wolf_, he told himself, trying not to take his mate's reaction personally. _It's not Remus; it's just the wolf_.

"I guess I've never grown up," he said, smiling softly and trying to smooth over Remus' ruffled feathers.

Remus' face softened and his stiff limbs relaxed. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning to lay on his back, "just a bit tetchy."

"I know," he answered, slipping his feet out of his worn slippers and settling onto his back as well, "I still keep track, you know."

Remus didn't answer but Sirius could feel an unasked question lingering in the air.

"I mean, it's not like I had anything better to do in Azkaban." He shifted, surprised at himself for speaking about his experience so easily. "I spent so many nights staring up at the sky, I think I've memorized every phase of the moon." There was a hint of laughter in his voice, he didn't know why. He thought maybe it was because he'd never spoken about Azkaban until now.

"I never forgot about you either," Remus whispered after a long silence.

Sirius rolled his eyes, despite being touched by the sentiment. "You really are a girl, aren't you, Moony?" he asked, smiling broadly at the thought that James would find his words amusing.

"Shut it, Black, before I go over there and pummel you."

Sirius could sense Remus smiling back in the dark.

"Just go to sleep, you woman," he responded.

He received a reply in the form of a pillow to the side of his head. He couldn't help but smile as he drifted off to sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

A bit of a transition chapter, I think, but I did warn you I would be taking my time with this story. The story keeps evolving (I've scrapped a few things I thought were a bit of a waste of time) but I now have a clearer idea of what's to come.

In the next chapter a character who's only been referred to (and seen briefly in flashback) is introduced. And no, it's not Eris. Not yet…sorry.


	9. Chapter 9: State of Transition

**A/N**: Here it is, another chapter, quicker than usual:) The site is running better but still giving me problems. Ugh! (If all goes well, I'll be posting the next one in a week.) To answer _rockstar-101_'s question (thanks for the pm, btw) – yes:) !!!

**Disclaimer**: paste usual disclaimer here:p

XxXxXxXx

**Chapter 9**: State of Transition

If ever there was a moment in his life that Remus hated, it was the one just before he was fully awake the morning after a full moon. In that moment, that played over and over again in his life like a cruel joke from above, he would forget that his body had literally torn itself apart, reconfigured itself to something canine, growling and bloodthirsty, then torn itself apart again only to put itself back together. He would forget that every limb, muscle and nerve were aching and raw, and he would attempt to move. Then the pain would come. The pain that would rip through his body like lightening and shock his system, before he realized that moving was bad, never to be attempted so quickly, so carelessly, not at that moment. Never.

Remus groaned loudly as that pain, so familiar yet so unwelcome, ripped through his throbbing body. From the pleasant sounds outside and the intensity of the sun through his bedroom window, he guessed it was morning, though unwilling to lift his head to check the clock on his bedside table, he couldn't be sure. He'd spent the night in the little patch of woods near his childhood home, running free like he used to as a boy, protected by his father's charms, with Sophie and Kate beside him. Kate's appearance had been a surprise but a welcome one, considering it was the first time he and Sophie were together, without stone walls and steel doors between them. He knew from his fuzzy memories that there had not been any mishaps or trouble with the wolf. Still, the transformation itself, with all the pressure he'd been under recently, the knowledge that Voldemort was back and the implications of what that meant weighing heavily on his mind, was worse than ever. The wolf ripped out of him with no mercy, rage and bloodlust in its heart. He knew that if Kate and Sophie weren't there with him, he would have torn himself to shreds in frustration. As it was, he had very few injuries, but the pain was still unbearable.

"Did I wake you?"

Kate stepped out of the shadows, where she'd been seated in an old recliner in the corner of the room, her skin as pale as her long blonde mane. Her voice was rough and shaky, mirroring her appearance.

"I guess I'm not the only one worse for wear, eh?" he croaked.

Kate smiled, though it looked like it pained her to do it and she sat on the corner of his bed, moving deliberately, slowly and barely disturbing the sheets as she sat down.

"Where is my Remus and what have you done with him?"

He detected the humour through the hoarse whisper. "Excuse me?"

"You're usually more tactful than that. You might as well have said, '_you look like hell'._"

"Sorry," he mumbled. _Sirius' rubbing off on me already_, he mused with some exasperation, recognizing his mate's personality trait in his own behaviour.

"Sophie's still asleep," she said, smoothing a crease by his knee with her long-fingered hand and effectively changing the subject.

"What time is it?" he asked. Sophie usually rose from bed before him the morning after a full moon.

"It's just past ten," she said as she produced a small bottle from her pocket and held it to his lips.

Without a word about it between them, he cracked his dry lips open and she tipped the bottle, a warm, sweet liquid flowing past his parched tongue and aching throat. A welcome numbing feeling surged through his body, melting away the sharp ache that he'd been aware of, dulling it to a comfortable throb. He propped himself up a little more, sliding his back up onto the pillows. It had been ages since he'd shared the experience with her but Kate still remembered their morning-after routine.

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispered, his own voice hoarse and rough.

She held up the tiny green bottle, and tipped it towards him in a sort of salute. The potions they used in Corcoran's pack, which the leader brewed himself, were more potent – and more effective – than most and Remus was grateful that she'd brought some along.

"Why are you up and about?" he asked. It was obvious she wasn't in any shape to be on her feet so soon.

"I didn't want to lie in bed and convalesce all day. I find working through the pain speeds up my recovery."

Remus had always been astounded at how resilient this thin pale woman, who looked delicate and whimsical with her blonde hair, blue eyes and small, cherry-stained mouth, had always been. She reminded him of the illustrations of fairies in muggle children's books – tall, lithe, delicate and graceful. That was Kate.

"…Remus?"

He realized he'd been staring at her thin, rosy lips, his fuzzy mind wandering, as it was prone to do after a full moon.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked if it's true."

"If what's true?"

"Is he back? Is the Dark Lord back?"

Remus was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't expected for the news to reach Corcoran's pack so soon.

"How did you hear?"

"There've been rumours," she whispered, her eyes downcast for a moment. She looked up at him and he was shocked by the burning intensity in her usually cool eyes. "So it's true."

He nodded.

She sighed and shifted a little, pulling her knees up onto the mattress and leaning lightly on his thigh.

"Paddy doesn't care, you know. He says we shouldn't worry ourselves over it."

Remus snorted, though it cost him to do it, and shook his head. He wasn't surprised that Corcoran wasn't bothered by the news. He'd managed to stay out of the war the first time. Remus was sure that with the aged werewolf's solipsistic view of the world and his excessive pride, he believed he and his pack couldn't be touched. From the look of worry on Kate's face, it was obvious she felt differently.

"You look worried."

"I'd be a fool if I weren't."

He agreed but didn't say so. As much as he opposed Corcoran's view, he respected him too much to disparage his character, especially in front of someone who had looked up to him for so many years.

"I don't think I can stay with the pack," she breathed.

To hear those words spill from her mouth, low and tinged with guilt, surprised him. Since joining the pack, Kate had developed a deep admiration for the Corcorans, and a deeper trust for Paddy's guidance. She'd adopted the werewolf's view of who they were as a people, not cursed but blessed with a gift, not bloodthirsty animals but creatures of habit. She had fallen for the enigmatic leader's words so thoroughly, she'd tried to convince to stay, first back in 1980 and again just last year. But Remus, having seen the reality of Voldemort's power and the scope of his influence on the wizarding community, couldn't turn his back on the world he knew and loved and could not see things differently fourteen years later.

As Kate leaned more heavily on his throbbing thigh, and tears threatened to fall from her sky blue eyes, he suddenly felt like he was the priest and his room was her confessional. It had been so long since he'd seen the vulnerable side of her, his heart couldn't help but spill open with feelings long ago locked away.

Pushing down the emotion, he took her hand and squeezed it gently in reassurance. "What about Belenus?" he asked.

Belenus had been a young werewolf, not much older than Sophie, who Corcoran had found abandoned in the woods not long after Kate joined his pack. Both feeling helpless and lost, they had instinctively gravitated towards each other. Having, at the time, just lost her own child, she felt a connection to the little boy, whose parents had left him to die after he was bitten by a werewolf. Though the boy resisted at first, he eventually let her nurture him and she raised him within the pack as her own.

"He left the pack." There was a deep sadness in her voice.

"Why?"

"To be a part of this," she answered, gesturing around the room. "He wanted to broaden his horizons, live like a wizard, sleep under a proper roof…" She shifted a little and turned her head, her eyes drawn to the strips of sunlight coming through the window and dancing on the opposite wall.

Remus' mind was muddled from the pain and the potion, but he was perceptive enough to know there was more to the story than Kate was willing to say.

"Where is he now?"

"Somewhere in London," she said softly, looking back at him with unfathomable eyes, "doing _who-knows-what_ to get by."

Remus felt for her. She loved the boy like he was her own and her heart was clearly broken. But why? He was a few years older than Sophie and, from what he remembered, had always possessed an independent (and rather wild) streak. It seemed only natural to him that Belenus would want to see more of the world than the little patch of wood in the Wicklow Mountains. It seemed odd to him that Kate would take his leaving so hard, when she'd always encouraged him to think for himself.

"Am I interrupting?"

Sophie stuck her head in the room, leaning heavily on the door frame. Her sudden appearance broke the solemn spell that he and Kate had been under and she moved away.

"You look well-rested," she said as Sophie entered the room and quickly occupied the other side of the bed.

Remus agreed and forced himself to sit up and take in his daughter's appearance as she and Kate discussed their plans. He was vaguely aware of Sophie's lips moving, suddenly taken by the pale complexion, red rimmed eyes, and worn look on his daughter's face. This was the worst she'd looked since before the age of eleven. It worried him.

"… I'm going back tonight."

Remus forced his eyes off his daughter and focused on Kate. He wasn't sure what Sophie knew, so he kept his questions to himself. He vowed to question his daughter in private when he had the chance.

"At least stay until tomorrow morning," Sophie implored, "I'm sure they can survive a few days without you."

Kate didn't argue the point, consenting to stay until morning and allowing Remus a moment alone with his daughter.

Sophie settled into the small space on the bed beside him, resting her head by his shoulder but making sure not to touch him. She was always extra cautious around him after transformations, as if she was afraid to cause him any undue pain.

"How do you feel?"

"Sore."

"Worse than usual?"

She hesitated. "You know me, unpredictable. But I'll be fine."

There was a forced lightness to her voice. He didn't believe it for a second.

"Did you know Belenus is in London?" he asked, pushing his worry for her aside for a moment.

"Mm-hm."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Didn't she tell you?"

"No."

"Hm," she grunted. "Corcoran banished him."

It took him a moment to let the words sink in.

"Kate told you this?"

"No. I got a letter from Bel. Found it in the post box yesterday."

_Muggle mail?_ "I didn't know you and he were… pen pals," he commented, wondering at once about the relationship between them. He didn't know if he liked the idea of Sophie and Belenus being more than friends.

"'_Pen pals'_ dad?" She gave an amused chuckle. "We're mates, nothing more."

"I never thought anything different."

"Of course not."

Remus didn't ask any more questions, instead letting Sophie tell him about the letter on her own. She was vague about its contents, which convinced him there were things in it she didn't want him to know, but she laid out the reason for the young man's banishment fairly easily. According to Belenus, Corcoran felt he had become a dangerous influence on the other members of the pack, simply because he questioned the old man's beliefs. Whether anything specific had happened to push Corcoran to that extreme, Sophie didn't say. Remus wondered if she knew and if he would ever find out. The women in his life seemed to keep everything close to the chest, and rarely let him in on their secrets.

Sophie stayed with him a while longer, in the silence of his room, fussing over him before he convinced her to check on Kate.

Though it felt good to be back in his own bed, he longed to be back in London. There were so many things going around in his head – ideas about how he could help Kate, how the Order could benefit from Corcoran's actions and just what those actions meant. Was Paddy losing control of his pack? And what did that mean for his enemies, like Greyback, who had been looking for a chink in the old man's armour for years?

Remus needed to sort it all out and he needed a trusted ear to do it.

He needed to talk to Sirius.

* * *

_Late Summer, 1980_. 

Remus stepped cautiously through the front door, cringing as the flat's old wooden door creaked shut behind him. It was almost dawn and he didn't want to wake his flatmate, though, in truth, he didn't even really know if he was there.

It had been months since he'd been home, and he found that home didn't look like he'd left it. Though dark, he could still make out the living room, clothes and papers strewn about the furniture, and Sirius' leather jacket sitting atop a pile of jackets and cloaks by the couch. From the look of the one room he could see, he imagined the state of the rest of the flat. Remus knew he shouldn't be surprised, he did live with Sirius after all, but it irked him to know he would spend the next few days cleaning up Sirius' mess.

He stepped around the newspapers that littered the small foyer and headed upstairs to his bedroom, too tired to give the state of things much more thought. He was halfway down the upstairs corridor when he heard the creak of bedsprings and the unmistakable soft padding of feet. The door at the end of the short corridor opened a little and Sirius poked his head out.

"Moony?"

Remus had wanted to avoid his mate and the questions that would inevitably follow. ('_Where the fuck have you been? Why didn't you contact the Order? What the fuck was so important that you disappeared for months?_').

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Remus sighed. He was right.

"Look, Sirius – " he began, then noticed movement behind his mate in the room.

"Siri?" came a soft female voice.

A lanky brunette poked her head out behind him, her glassy eyes falling on Remus.

"Oh, hi," she simpered.

Though she was half-hidden behind his mate, Remus could clearly tell the woman was naked, her bare hip peeking out from behind Sirius, and she made no effort to hide it.

"This is my roommate," Sirius mumbled, his eyes flashing with subdued anger.

Remus was never so glad to be interrupted by one of Sirius' many women in his life.

"Hello," he answered back politely, avoiding Sirius' gaze.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Remus hoping his mate would retreat back to his bed. When he didn't Remus decided to ask what he'd been dying to know.

"Did Lily have the baby?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Yes," he answered curtly.

"When?"

"July 31st."

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

Another awkward silence was broken when the brunette, determined to have every minute with Sirius she could, coaxed him gently back to bed, cooing, "come on baby, it's almost time for me to go." Sirius, breaking eye contact with him, moved away from the door without a word and retreated into the room while the brunette smiled and lingered at the door long enough for Remus to get a good look at her in the meager light before she shut the door slowly, a naughty, playful look on her face.

He took the few steps to his bedroom door and entered the small room, pulling his thin cloak off and dropping it onto a chair, then dropping his weary body onto the soft, inviting mattress – _his_ bed.

He managed to push off his shoes, barely aware of the heavy clunking noise they made as they hit the hardwood floor, before he was drifting off to sleep, the bright glow of the morning sun blocked out by the heavy curtains.

He was home. Kate was safe. Lily had her baby. James was a father.

Those thoughts comforted him as he finally let himself succumb to the blissful state of sleep.

**8888888**

Later that morning, after Sirius managed to get his bedmate out of the flat (promising her he would call, even though he hadn't bothered to get her number and barely knew how to use a phone), he quickly made his way back upstairs and listened outside Remus' bedroom door for any sign his mate was awake, but was greeted by the lycan's familiar soft, muffled snore. He pushed away the urge to barge in and shake Remus awake, though he wanted to – badly – and padded down the stairs to look for a clean sheet of parchment and a quill.

Remus had been gone for months, on an undercover assignment none of his friends, including Sirius, were allowed to know any details about. They were never told how long he would be gone, so when the first two months went by without a word from their mate, he, Peter, Lily and James took it all in stride. But when Dumbledore began asking them if they had heard from Remus, they all began to worry. In the time their mate had been gone, he and James had been ambushed by Death Eaters, Peter had been promoted at the bank and James and Lily had become parents. And never once had they heard from Remus.

Sirius, his anger burning once again at the thought of his mate's sudden reappearance, searched the desk and managed to find a quill and parchment but no ink.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, taking a long look at the state of their living room, and wondering where the ink had gotten to. He needed to let Dumbledore know that Remus was back and had no other way of contacting him. Frustrated, he growled out loud, and just as he started to throw old newspapers to the floor, searching the coffee table for the elusive bottle of ink, there was a knock at the door.

He wondered briefly if it was James and jumped over the sofa, avoiding the pile of newspapers teetering precariously by the door.

"Who is it?" he asked, realizing his wand was still in his bedroom.

With the war on, it was ludicrous for anyone to simply open a door.

"Uh," came a soft female voice, "is this Remus' flat?"

Sirius, suddenly and intensely curious, forgot Moody's first rule of safety - _constant vigilance_ - and unlocked and opened the door.

"Who are you?"

A tall, lanky blonde with cool blue eyes stood before him, eyeing him curiously.

"I'm Kate," she answered, "You must be Sirius."

Sirius stood at a loss for words.

"Is Remus here?" she asked, looking around him into the flat.

"Uh…," he hesitated, searching his mind for any mention of the name from his mate in the past, "he's uh, asleep."

"Oh." She raised a brow and stood looking at him expectantly. "Can I come in?" she asked after a moment.

"Sure," he said uncertainly, moving away and letting the blonde walk into their flat. He shut the door and, almost sure they'd never met, bluntly asked, "How do you know Remus?"

The woman, wearing a long, pale dress and a thin blue cardigan with long sleeves, looked around the room then turned to him. "He didn't mention me?" she asked, sounding a little surprised.

"Should he have?" He wasn't about to tell a stranger that he hadn't really spoken to his mate in months.

She broke eye contact with him, her eyes falling over the room. "No." Navigating around the pile of jackets and cloaks that had fallen to the floor from the back of the sofa, she turned to him expectantly once more.

"Would you mind nudging him awake for me?" she asked sweetly.

Sirius stared at her, incredulous. "Considering I've never met you, never heard your name and have no idea who you are – no."

She scoffed, looking amused, and smirked. "That's fine," she said, the sweetness gone from her voice, "if you'll just point the way, I'll do it myself."

He couldn't believe her nerve. "Tell you what," he said, stepping over the same pile she'd navigated, "I'll tell Remus you were here, and he'll be in touch."

He grabbed her firmly by the arm, intent on escorting her to the door and out of their flat. As soon as he touched her, she jerked away, causing him to almost lose balance.

"Don't touch me," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

A familiar flash in her eyes caught him off guard.

"You're a werewolf," he breathed. He couldn't believe he didn't see it before. She was impossibly pale and thin and wore long sleeves in the middle of a heat wave.

"Very perceptive," she answered, her voice taking on a dangerous, low tone he'd come to associate with sharpened lycan emotions. "Did they teach you how to spot one of us at Hogwarts? Or was that part of your upbringing as a Black?"

The mention of his family, and the way she said his name, piqued his anger. He wanted to lunge for her and throw her out the door, but keenly aware of how a lycan was prone to react when attacked, he stood his ground.

"What the _fuck _would you know about it – what is it – _Kate_?" he seethed instead.

The burning intensity in her eyes seemed to die away. "I just want to see Remus," she said, her voice softer, having lost the dangerous growl. "I need to see him."

Sirius stared at the woman, whose cool blue eyes reminded him of the ocean, and found himself considering her request.

"Wait here," he said, giving in to the azure orbs of stifled emotion, "I'll get him."

She uttered a thanks as he headed to the stairs, but he stopped when Remus descended suddenly from above.

"Kate?" he asked, brushing past Sirius, "Is that you?"

"Remus." The woman sounded a little like a child when she uttered his name.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling her closer to him in an intimate and familiar gesture.

Her eyes flicked to Sirius just for a second but it was long enough to give Remus the hint.

"Why don't we go to my room," he suggested.

The blonde only nodded and he took her by the hand and led her back to the stairs.

Sirius, feeling suddenly annoyed, confused and angry he didn't know what was going on, grabbed Remus by the forearm as he passed. "Wait," he demanded.

Remus stopped abruptly, still holding the woman's hand, and gave Sirius an unfathomable look.

"Go on up, Kate," he said, his eyes never leaving Sirius', "it's the first door on the left. I'll be up in a minute."

The lanky woman slipped her hand from his and ascended quietly up the stairs. Only when they heard the click of the door shutting behind her, did either one of them move or speak.

"I think I deserve to know what the fuck is going on," he breathed, following Moody's second rule and keeping his anger in check.

"Well, you were busy when I got in," he said dryly.

"And now it's your turn?"

Remus, standing stock still, sighed wearily. "Look," he replied, "you'll get your answers, just… not now."

There was a tone of defeat and fatigue in his voice that was usually only present near a full moon. It didn't fit that he would sound so beat down by life in the middle of a lunar cycle. It made him suddenly realize that his mission must have gone horribly wrong.

"When?" he asked, softening a little as he wondered what Remus had experienced in the last few months to leave him that way.

"After Kate leaves," he whispered, concerned about the woman in his room, "I promise I'll tell you… everything."

Sirius didn't take much stock in the last word, spoken with hesitance by his mate. Remus had been keeping more to himself for the past six months, maybe longer, and it had caused some members of the Order of the Phoenix, including a close friend, to question just what he was determined to hide. Despite his misgivings, though, Sirius agreed and loosened his grip on his mate's arm.

"Thanks," Remus said, sounding sincere.

He began to ascend the stairs when he halted and turned back to Sirius. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked.

"Sure," he agreed, taken a little by surprise.

"Can you write Dumbledore, let him know I'm back."

Sirius nodded. He was going to do that anyway -- if he could find the damn ink bottle.

"And could you let James and Lily know I'll be over later tonight, if it's all right with them. I'd like to see the baby."

"Sure."

Sirius watched as his childhood friend, someone he'd thought he knew, as he disappeared up the stairs. He heard the distinct sound of a door opening and closing then murmuring voices coming from above the quiet flat.

He didn't know what to think. Remus was like a stranger somehow, he'd seen it when he looked in his eyes and he'd felt it as he held him by the sinewy arm. It was as if it had been the shell of his mate standing before him, speaking and sounding like Remus, but the real Remus wasn't there. The Remus he knew and loved like a brother was gone, but where he'd gotten to, and what had happened to make him disappear, Sirius didn't know. It made him wonder if Remus, the Remus he'd come to rely on for sense and guidance, would ever return.

Sirius sighed, closed his eyes for a moment and raked his hands through his hair, before resuming the hunt for ink bottle buried among the clutter and chaos that was the living room.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

There you are, a little peek at Kate. - and a flashback! What did you think? Love her? Hate her? Still not sure? Let me know, if you can - as I found out first-hand, reviews can be tricky to post.

FYI, in case you haven't guessed, that is not the last you'll see of Kate… expect to see her again very soon. I won't say much more about her except that, like Eris (who'll show up later), she's um, complicated;)

There will be more of the characters you know and love popping into the story soon, namely Tonks, who is poised to steal a certain lycan's heart... the next chapter is still being tweaked, but I should have it up in a week;)


	10. Sick Jokes & Strange Coincidence

**A/N: **Okay, so it's a little late... don't hold it against me, I had a helluva time with this chapter. As always, reviews, comments, constructive criticism is welcome. Or just click the purple button and say hi!

_r__ockstar-101_, thanks for the continued encouragement... that's why I answered your question! Hope I didn't spoil it for you.

_fireboltcrazed_ - yay, a new reviewer! Thanks for the praise and suggestions (keep 'em coming!) About Kate... very perceptive;)

**Disclaimer: **Not JK, don't own anything you recognize... just bits of the plot and a handful of characters:p

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**Chapter Ten**: Sick Jokes & Strange Coincidence 

There were moments in Sirius' life that made him wonder about the cosmic plan that had been laid out for him in the stars above. Like his namesake, shining up in the sky, he'd come to realize he was a part of something bigger and more complicated than the sum of its luminescent parts. The way things fit together in his life, overlapped, and came around again – the war, the Order, his friendship with Remus – made him wonder, at times, just what kind of sick joke was being played on him, but at other times – times when he thought he was alone, doomed, cursed – he thanked the heavens for strange coincidence. He had been mired in the former most of his life, but when a lovely young petite brunette with dazzling eyes and an infectious smile, walked into the kitchen at number twelve Grimmauld Place the night of the full moon, he couldn't help but thank Merlin for the latter.

The last time he'd seen Nymphadora Tonks, she'd been a rambunctious eight-year-old. His "baby cousin", as he lovingly referred to her, had been celebrating her birthday dressed up in a fluffy pink frock her mother (his cousin Andromeda) had lovingly picked out for her; a dress she obviously hated. He remembered that she'd pouted all through the cutting of the cake, tugging at the frilly neck and pulling at the puffy layers that ballooned out and almost swallowed her whole as she sat sulking on the patio of his cousin's modest home. He also remembered – vividly – when the dress was whipped off in a fit of mischievous glee, dragged through the freshly-cut grass and thrown into the mud among the rose bushes in the large garden, while little 'Dora ran around semi-nude but deliriously happy. That little girl had her first taste of freedom at the age of eight, and he couldn't help but think that somehow, a tiny part of her remembered and cherished the feeling. They were kindred spirits, not only because they were family, but also because he could see that tiny part of the girl still present in the woman. The woman that stood before him and looked just like he imagined that little girl would grow up to be.

It was odd to see her all grown up, a perfect balance of Andromeda and Ted, intelligent, accomplished (still very talkative) and an Auror, no less. It gave Sirius the kind of joy he hadn't felt in years to hug her, hear about his favourite cousin, and see her eyes light up and shine with tears as she told him how happy it made her to know he wasn't guilty. They'd sat and talked for hours in the corner of the long table in the kitchen, oblivious to the comings and goings of the Weasleys, Granger or occasional Order member who came to call. That night, nothing else mattered to Sirius but Dora, the child he'd loved with all his heart, the woman who was quickly capturing it again.

The next night, Tonks (as she insisted everyone, including him, call her) joined him and his house guests for dinner, and quickly became a hit with the Weasley children with her unusual talent, especially the girls, who were both very impressed by the fact that she was a Metamorphagus and an Auror. When the meal was over and the rest of the brood went off to bed, Tonks sat and listened as he attempted to put the last fourteen years into words. He tried to fill her in on as much as his voice (and his mind) would allow of the past few years, but he found that words could not express his years in Azkaban and he was relieved of that. Though he'd managed to speak to Remus a few times about his stint there, he had no desire to open up to anyone else. He feared that if he pulled the lid off his emotions he would find a bottomless well and he would drown in the horrid memories of that place. As much as he knew he needed to deal with the emotions he'd hidden for over a decade, he couldn't fathom where to start. Moreover, he didn't want to drag those memories into the light; it was hard enough dealing with the memories living back home had dredged up and wading through the memories of his father. Along with worrying about his best friend's son, he couldn't deal with any more. It was all too much for one man.

Sirius missed his childhood friend during those nights, though he missed Moony a little less having Tonks there to talk to. Still, when it came time to sleep, after downing half a bottle of firewhiskey in an attempt to dull his senses, he would look over at the empty bed, a single they'd conjured and placed along the wall of his bedroom where his chest of drawers had always been (having reluctantly given up the guest room on the second floor to Arthur and Molly and forced to bunk back in his old room), and he would fight sleep, knowing that his mind would eventually betray him and slip back to Azkaban and Moony wouldn't be there to shake him awake when the Dementors drew near in his dreams.

He was relieved when three nights later, after every Weasley had gone to bed and Tonks stayed to keep him company for a while, Remus and his daughter came through the bedroom door, even though they both looked like they shouldn't be traveling. Moony was back. At least now he could finally get some sleep.

**8888888**

Considering that she'd been trapped in the old, dark house for weeks, scraping dried doxy dung out of the corners and breathing in years of dirty, sooty dust, Sophie was glad to be back in London. The whole time they were away, she'd worried that something would happen. She didn't know why – or what, for that matter – but ever since stepping into that house she'd had a bad feeling and she found the bad feeling had followed her home. She'd been convinced it was the house itself, or something dark inside it, living unseen in the walls or a cupboard they'd yet to clean out, but now she knew better. It was intuition, stronger in her because of her lycan instincts. It was as if she could smell a storm coming, the feeling made clear to her during the full moon. The tide was shifting and something bad was about to happen, though she didn't know what or when.

She knew, from the way Kate looked the next morning, that she had felt it, too, though like her father, who was too caught up in other worries to pay attention to his animal instincts, Kate was too preoccupied with thoughts of Belenus to realize what her instincts were trying to tell her.

Sophie found it frustrating that the only two people who could feel what she was feeling couldn't understand their emotions. It made her wonder if being born that way made her _that_ different, if she was the only one of their kind that understood what her instincts were trying to tell her. She thought about contacting Corcoran or his wife, but thought better of it, knowing that, though he hid it well, the leader of the pack that she'd called home for the better part of a year secretly resented her abilities. And given the conversation she overheard the morning after the full moon between Kate and her father, she was fairly certain the old man, if he felt the storm coming, wouldn't be all that concerned.

Sophie decided to keep what she'd been feeling to herself that very morning, after taking in her father's grim appearance. He'd looked worse than ever. Though basically uninjured, he was obviously sore, and his pale face made him look so much older than his thirty-five years. It was heartbreaking, but she did her best to hide her emotions from him. She didn't want him knowing just how alarmed she'd been by his appearance, and she didn't want to give him yet another thing to worry over. She loved him too much to cause him any more grief.

They slipped into headquarters quietly, both feeling under the weather and hoping that they were late enough to avoid their housemates, Sophie secretly praying the twins weren't sneaking about the house in an attempt to collect samples for their newest venture. None of her friends had ever seen her looking ill after a full moon. She was a genius at hiding her pain (and injuries) and never looked as bad as she did now. She didn't want them to think any less of her, or worse, pity her. She didn't think she could take it.

Sophie and her father slipped up the stairs arm-in-arm (more for her father's benefit than hers), a rucksack slung over each of their shoulders. She was still living on the second floor in a small guest room across the hall from Ginny and Hermione, but her father had moved up to the fourth into Sirius' old bedroom. When her father tried to stop on the second landing, she resisted and insisted she walk him up to his room. She was surprised and a little disappointed at how quickly he relented. It meant he wasn't well.

As they approached the door, they both became aware of a soft muffle of two distinct voices, one male and the other female. Her first thought was that Sirius was listening to the wireless but when her father stiffened and pulled her away from the door, she realized just what he thought.

"You don't think – " she whispered, finding it hard to believe that Sirius Black would have a woman in his room. Where would he find one?

Her father gave her a look that said that was exactly what he thought.

"Who?" she asked. A list of the females in the house went through her mind. It was disturbing on all counts.

"Let's go back dow –" her father whispered but was startled by the sudden opening of the bedroom door.

"Moony!" Sirius stood before them, his arms outstretched, a lopsided smile on his face. "You're back!"

He gently pulled her father into the room, dragging her in inadvertently. Her father flinched a little and Sirius, who seemed a bit inebriated, immediately let go of his arm.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

He was still sober enough to realize her father was still smarting from the transformation. His eyes flicked over Sophie quickly, as if trying to assess her condition as well.

"Wotcher," came a voice from deep inside the room.

Sophie, still holding her father's arm, turned her head to see a petite pink-haired woman sitting by the fireplace, her legs crossed, a set of exploding snap cards laid out on the floor in front of her.

Her father didn't say a word but looked at the woman curioiusly, then turned his amber eyes on Sirius, silently saying more to his friend, though what exactly, Sophie could only guess.

Sirius smiled knowingly. "You'll never guess who this is, Remus," he said as he walked over to the woman and helped her up, then pulled her back towards them. "This, Remus," he said excitedly, "is my baby cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. 'Dora," he went on, turning his attention to the bright-haired woman, "this is Remus Lupin and his daughter Sophie."

The woman gave a bright smile and held out her hand, which her father took, and shook it gently. "Call me Tonks," she said, then cocked her head to the side and nearly jumped in enthusiasm. "I remember you," she said eagerly, "you came with Sirius to my house for Christmas one time."

Her father gave a pained smile and nodded. "Yes, that's right," he said, his voice sounding very weary.

Tonks then turned her attention to Sophie, holding her hand out again. Sophie took it reluctantly and was surprised when the woman pulled her into a hug.

"So great to meet you," she enthused, her breath smelling faintly of firewhiskey. "I never knew my cousin's mate here had a daughter."

Sirius snickered. "Neither did he," he said a little under his breath.

Tonks caught the words and gave Sirius a curious look.

Sophie just stood there at a loss for what to say. Ordinarily, she would have been much more friendly, but she was still feeling the aftereffects of transformation and her father was much worse for the wear. Neither one of them were exactly in a social mood. She looked at her father for a sign of how to handle the situation but he looked just as much at a loss as she felt. Thankfully, Tonks was perceptive enough to realize that it was time for her to go.

"Why don't we finish up our game tomorrow night," she suggested to Sirius, who looked at her blankly for a moment before his fuzzy brain kicked into gear and he agreed.

"Good idea," he said, moving away to clear up the cards with a flick of his wand, "you can join us for dinner again, if you can."

Tonks gathered her bag, which lay propped up against the wall by the door, and pulled the strap over her head to settle on a shoulder. "Can't make dinner," she said, "I'm on duty 'til nine. But I'll take you up on the game. I promised to kick your arse, after all."

The bright-haired woman grinned at her cousin, bid them both goodnight, her eyes lingering on Remus a moment longer. Sirius swept her from the room to escort her down to the front door, leaving Sophie to help her father settle into bed.

"Stop fussing over me," he grumbled a moment later as she adjusted his pillows, "I'll be fine. You should rest. The trip looks like it's taken a lot out of you."

Sophie couldn't argue, and conceded, giving him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room and making her way downstairs. She was tired, feeling weak from a combination of the transformation, not eating a proper meal for the past two days and traveling by train most of the day. Her knees felt like they were about to give and she hoped, as she made her way to the second landing, that they would hold out until she got to her room.

**8888888**

Sirius led Tonks to the front door, carefully steering his clumsy cousin around the ill-placed troll's leg umbrella stand (which she'd battled with each time she had visited so far).

"Is your friend alright?" she asked, whispering, "He looks rather sickly."

"He'll be fine," he whispered back, deciding it was best to be upfront, "he just needs time to recover from the full moon."

Tonks eyes widened and she seemed to understand. Moody, who'd recruited her (along with another Auror), had warned her that there were werewolves in the Order, something the ex-Auror felt he had to do. Though Sirius didn't agree, he understood Moody's intention. Too many wizards, dark or not, were very weary of dark creatures, particularly werewolves. He waited tensely for her reaction.

"Poor man," she said sympathetically, "he doesn't deserve it."

Sirius, who could sense her sincerity, gave Tonks a big bear hug, squeezing her between his arms the way he used to when she was a child.

She giggled, trapped in his embrace, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "See you tomorrow, cousin," she whispered before slipping out the front door.

Sirius loved the sound of those words. He hadn't heard them for years, spoken by her mother, who had been the only member of the Black family he ever felt any real connection to. A strange feeling coursed through him but he was well aware of what it was. Now that he had been reunited with his baby cousin, and Moony was back, things didn't look so dire – at least not in the comfortable little fuzzy niche in his mind that was the result of a few shots of firewhiskey, a hug from family and the familiar face of a childhood pal. He was aware that it was only temporary, that the direness of the situation would be back tomorrow, but at the moment, it seemed so far away, trapped behind a veil of contentment.

As he stepped up to the second landing he stopped, watching as Sophie slowly picked her way down the stairs as if trying to avoid stepping on some invisible obstacle. It was then that he realized her odd behaviour was something more. Sophie, stepping onto the landing from the last step down, suddenly grabbed the railing, her knees buckling under her. Sirius sprinted up the last few steps and caught her before she hit the floor.

She immediately flinched from his touch, struggling to stand upright and gain her composure, her reddening cheeks giving her away.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "just clumsy, I guess."

Sirius knew it was more than that. _Stubborn gits_, he thought, annoyed by Remus and his daughter's obstinacy. They were obviously unfit to travel, so why did they rush back? The questionable judgement of his own health was completely in Remus' character, he just thought that maybe Sophie had a bit more sense.

"You must be knackered," he commented as casually as he could. If she_was_ anything like her father, she would be sensitive about her current state.

She nodded. "Long day," she said, moving to pick up her rucksack, which had dropped and spilled some of its contents to the floor when she fell.

Sirius helped her gather her things from the landing, stuffing a tee shirt and a hairbrush into the sack, as she hastily shoved in the rest. Then she thanked him again and ran off around the corner to her room. Sirius was left to ponder her odd behaviour a little more thoroughly, that is, until Molly poked her head out into the corridor and distracted him with questions. "Everything's fine," he assured her and she quietly went back to bed.

He turned and began his ascent to the fourth floor. It was then, as he stepped off the landing, that he spotted a letter, lying slightly crumpled on the floor. It had a stamp on the corner, indicating it was muggle post, and a postmark from London dated a few weeks earlier. It was addressed to Sophie, large childlike block writing spelling out her name in the front. Suddenly curious, he bent down and picked it up, but rather than return it, which he considered briefly, he slipped it into his pocket and continued up the stairs.

Laying in bed a few minutes later, Remus fast asleep in his own bed by the door, Sirius pulled the letter out of its envelope, unfolded it carefully and laid it out on his chest. He knew it was none of his business, that the contents of a random letter to his friend's daughter shouldn't have made him so curious, but the fact that Sophie had led him around London a few nights before like she'd lived there all her life, had him wondering just how she knew the city Remus himself had confessed to avoiding for over a decade. They lived isolated, just outside a small village, with no ties to London that Remus had mentioned. He knew he shouldn't read it, that it was a violation of Sophie's privacy, but he was still Sirius Black. In school, he wouldn't have hesitated to read a letter found out in the open, and he had, many times, finding out things about his friends and classmates he never would have known – maybe shouldn't have known – had it not been for his lack of propriety.

Fingering the thin sheet of paper momentarily, he picked the letter up and began to read.

_Hello there, baby!_

_You will NEVER guess where I am. London! I'm actually here! If you've spoken to Kate I guess you already know and this letter (muggle style – nice, eh?) won't come as such a surprise. (If you haven't, check on her, will you?)_

_Sophie, I had to leave the pack. I just couldn't take living under that hypocrite's thumb anymore. Actually, he banished me. Can you believe it? That old bastard Corcoran actually banished me. It's not like I wasn't expecting it but still. He thinks he's Merlin himself or something but really he's just a bitter old man. If you heard how he speaks about you and your father, how you're both clinging to a society that would rather see you dead... like I said, bastard. You were right to leave when you did. Forget about him. I know I will._

_Sophie, you have to come visit. I've found a room to let in this flat with a bunch of students. My room's tiny but I love it! When you come you can bunk with me. The bed's small but you're a slip of a thing and I remember how you like to cuddle. We can visit that garden you love. I haven't been there without you, not since the night I 'proposed'. Remember that? That night was fucking brilliant! You need to have a night like that again. You need to visit. Come. Please._

_You mustn't send your reply by owl. I'm living with muggles and it would just be strange. Send your letter by muggle post. I'll be waiting for your reply._

_Missing you,_

_Bel_

_P. S. Don't tell Kate I told you what happened. It's a bit of a scandal and she's torn about the whole thing. I hate that she's suffering but she has to come to terms with the truth about Corcoran. Let me know how she is. Thanks, baby._

Sirius rolled his eyes as he read, wondering if Remus knew who this Bel was. The mention of Kate, who he remembered vividly (and disliked from memory), and the nasty reference to Corcoran, who he'd never met but disliked on principal, told him that Bel, whoever he was, was most likely a werewolf. He was curious to know just how close Remus had gotten to the woman he'd rescued all those years ago. It seemed close enough to still be a part of his life, at least according to the letter. Remus hadn't mentioned her name once since Sirius landed on his doorstep a month ago. The more Sirius thought about it, the more curious he became.

Looking over at his mate's sleeping form, his face buried under the covers, Sirius couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He'd read the letter and now he knew things he was almost sure Remus didn't. There was also an odd feeling that Sirius couldn't quite place, until he read the third paragraph over again and realized what it was. Whoever this Bel person was, Sirius didn't like him. He was much too forward, sounded cocky and Sirius was sure that his mate wouldn't approve. Though the part about the proposal sounded sketchy, Sirius wasn't sure if he should be worried on his friend's behalf. Sophie was much too young to get married and if all the bloke could afford was a room in a flat, there was no way he would be able to provide for his friend's daughter. Sirius felt indignant on his mate's behalf as well, and vowed, as he folded up the letter and hid it in an old book placed it under his bed, that he would get to the bottom of the situation before Moony got wind. He owed Remus, and keeping him from unnecessary worries was the least he could do.

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Okay, a bit of an odd chapter for me... I rewrote it, like, three times and had to stop from doing it again. Hope it doesn't show...

The next chapter has more Order members popping up and Sophie _finally_ attending her first meeting. Harry will also be entering the scene very soon and Sirius will get his answers... unless I change my mind and come up with something completely different;p


	11. Chapter 11: Distraction

**A/N: **You'll notice, once you read this chapter, that it's not exactly like my preview. I warned you;) Seriously, though, it took a while, and I ended up writing another chapter first, but it's done. I decided not to write some drawn out Order meeting, focusing this chapter on our favourite (or mine, at least) animagus. There is now a definite direction although I'm not sure you get that in this chapter. It is, like the title, a bit of a distraction;) Thanks for the reviews. Let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer:** Do I always have to type this in? Oh, yeah. Please don't sue me. Just borrowing.

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**Chapter Eleven**: Distraction 

The last week of July was one Remus would have rather forgotten. It had taken him longer than usual to fully recover from the full moon, the pressures that had been weighing on his mind agitating the wolf, but once he had, he jumped back into life at headquarters with both feet. Before his monthly sabbatical, he'd been working on research on Dumbledore's behalf. It was a task he enjoyed – searching old texts, ancient spellbooks, translating forgotten languages and transcribing runes. He was glad for an excuse to read, use his mind and put in practice the skills he'd honed at Hogwarts. He would have been content had it not been for the dark subject and the things that plagued his mind – namely Harry, Sophie and Kate. He, like Sirius, felt Harry should be at headquarters, safe and under their constant protection, instead of roaming the streets of Little Whinging, exposed and tailed by cloaked Order members. Unlike Sirius, he didn't voice his opinion. He thought it best not to question Dumbledore. He was sure he had his reasons.

As for Sophie, after attending her first meeting, where he'd proudly introduced her to old and new members of the Order of the Phoenix (watching as those who'd known his mother studied her face with awe), she'd been given her first assignment. True to Dumbledore's word, it didn't consist of guarding the prophecy housed in the bowels of the Ministry (a task Remus thought was much too dangerous for her) but she was given the task of guarding Harry for four shifts that week. He wasn't sure she would be in less danger on that assignment but was sure that, for those hours she watched over him, James and Lily's son would be safe.

He was finally able to talk to Sirius about the last thing that worried him late one night after a discussion with Arthur and his eldest son, Bill (who was also a new member of the Order) over the best approach to take with other magical creatures in trying to recruit them to their side. They talked for hours and only broke up the impromptu discussion when Molly came into the kitchen in her dressing gown to remind her husband he had a job to get to early the next morning. She also managed to goad her son into staying the night and bunking with his youngest brother, Ron. Remus was actually surprised at how easily the long-haired redhead gave in to his mother and he and Sirius exchanged amused looks as the Weasley men were escorted upstairs by the formidable matriarch of their family. Remus and Sirius were left alone to tidy up the kitchen and headed up to bed fifteen minutes later.

"Imagine being a grown man and having your mum still watching over you," Sirius commented, an edge to his voice, as they both got ready for bed in the room they shared.

"Oh, I don't know," Remus responded, thinking of his own mother and how much he still missed her, "It wouldn't be the worst thing." He knew Sirius felt very differently.

Sirius cracked a smile. "Well, 'course not. Not _your_ mum." He gave a comical waggle of the brows, the sour note in his voice gone.

"_Watch it_, Padfoot," he warned, though it was in jest.

Sirius, who once commented that Remus' mother was "quite a fetching bird," had taken to flirting shamelessly with Sylvia Lupin as a teenaged boy. Remus' mother, of course, found it amusing (and, he suspected, was even a little flattered by the attention) and his father took it in stride ("Your mate's lucky he's charming," John Lupin once told his son after witnessing Sirius sweep his wife up in his arms and plant an uncomfortably long kiss on her face).

"Sorry, Moony, I can't help that your mum was such a stunner." He had his back to him but Remus suspected he was smiling wickedly. "It's a shame you didn't get her looks."

"And it's a shame you didn't get your mother's either," he retorted dryly.

Sirius froze for a second before turning around and bursting into laughter. "It's good to know you've held onto your cruel streak after all these years," he said chuckling.

"If I still had my cruel streak I'd have told you you actually resemble her somewhat." He smiled as he said this.

Sirius pulled the covers down and slid into bed. "Well, if a dozen years in Azkaban couldn't do it, I reckon I'm safe."

Remus couldn't see his friend's face from the angle of his bed, but could hear something hollow in Sirius's voice at the mention of the prison.

"It's good to know you've still got your ego intact after all these years," he said flippantly, trying to lighten the mood.

There was quiet laughter from the other side of the room. It made him wonder what Sirius was really thinking.

"Not to worry, Padfoot," he went on, feeling the need to fill in the quiet lull, "your good looks and charm remain intact."

Sirius slid to the foot of the bed, peeking out from the thick velvet bed curtains gathered at the posts and gave him an odd look. "Oh,_really_."

Remus realized how his statement sounded, and braced himself for the ribbing he was about to get. "I mean, from the reaction of some of our female colleagues, you've nothing to worry about," he added quickly in an attempt to derail the coming jibe.

Sirius only smirked but, thankfully, said nothing – at least not for a moment.

"Well, I _have_ noticed Jones watching me lately, and Vance, she's been practically undressing me with her eyes."

At that statement, Remus had to laugh. _That's the Sirius Black I know_, he thought. _Always humble_.

Remus felt a positive energy coming from the other side of the room for the first time that week. Seeing as how Sirius had become sullen over his situation, waiting for any news from Scrimgeour about clearing his name, and increasingly frustrated about Harry's, alone and isolated from those he cared for most, Remus was glad. He wondered if it was the time to bring up what he'd wanted to talk with his oldest friend about – putting Kate's name up for consideration to join the Order.

"Alright, Moony, what's on your mind?"

Remus looked up from the spot he'd been unconsciously staring at on the floor to see Sirius eyeing him with concern.

"What gave it away?" he asked.

Sirius rolled his eyes as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Three things I could always tell – when you had something on your mind, I won't go into the other one, and when James had to pee."

Remus snorted and shook his head, aware that Sirius didn't want to mention what he remembered about their false friend, Peter.

"Well?"

Remus took a breath and dove into his tale about Kate – how she was dissatisfied with Corcoran's response to the rumours of Voldemort's return, how she herself was worried and how she seemed frustrated that there was little she could do. Remus laid it all out for his friend, who listened passively, never revealing what he thought for a second as Remus came to the conclusion that he felt that Kate and the Order would benefit from each other. When he was done he waited for Sirius to respond to the unspoken question that lingered in the air.

Sirius shifted on the bed as he contemplated what Remus had told him, then finally spoke.

"I just have one question."

"No, I'm not sleeping with her," he answered quickly, "and I never have."

Sirius tried – and failed – to stifle a smirk. "I wasn't gonna ask," he said.

"Oh." Remus felt like a dolt. "Go on," he said, dreading what the question would be. He suspected Sirius never liked the idea of his lycanthropic friend having lived in a pack of werewolves (even if it was for the Order).

"Do you trust her?"

"With my life," he stated. "With my daughter's life as well."

Sirius stared at him for a moment. "Is that where she was – Sophie, I mean – last year? Was she with Kate and the pack?"

Remus had never mentioned it, but he and Sophie had referred to Wicklow at times in his presence. He nodded, hoping that with what Sirius knew about his past with Kate (about how he saved her life and why), he wouldn't put it together. The last thing he wanted was to betray his daughter's confidence, no matter how unintentional. Whatever Sirius was thinking, whether or not he approved of the way Kate lived, however, he didn't voice his opinion.

"Then you know what to do," he stated, sliding back on his bed and disappearing behind the billowy bed curtains on his grand four-poster.

Remus settled into his own small bed, feeling the weight of his decision lightening a little. Still, he wondered if bringing Kate into the Order of the Phoenix (and away from Corcoran) was the right thing to do.

He was caught up in his thoughts that he'd almost forgotten Sirius was there, until he heard the familiar voice half-whisper in the dark.

"Never once?"

**8888888**

Sirius woke up from a particularly nasty dream flush with fear and slick with sweat. The images lingered in the corners of his mind as he forced his eyes open, begging the light coming in from the tall, slim windows around him to clear them out of his mind.

He'd had it again. The nightmare he detested more than the others. In it, he was held down by cold, groping skeletal hands as a long spindly finger reached out and etched a symbol on his chest, the long, jagged fingernail carving into his flesh like an acid-tipped knife held over a flame. He could feel the pain shoot through his body, and he opened his mouth to scream but the only sound he heard was a faint rattling breath and the pounding of his own heart.

Awake in his childhood bed, once grand but now less so, he reminded himself he wasn't there anymore. Though the nightmare had been real, it was in the past and though he felt, at times, he was in another prison, the Black family mansion could never compare to Azkaban, no matter how oppressed he felt within its walls.

Sirius sat up, leaning on his left elbow while his right hand subconsciously flew up and rubbed the spot on his chest where the rough tattoo adorned his flesh. His fingers lightly traced scar tissue, raised and bumpy, sprawling over his chest – a permanent map of his terror.

"Are you alright?"

Sirius jumped, startled by Sophie's voice coming from across the room. He shifted and poked his head around the velvet curtains and saw her standing by Remus' neat, made-up bed.

"Where's your father?" he asked, wondering about the time and why she was standing in his bedroom.

"He had something to take care of," she said, "he should be back later this evening."

Sirius was about to ask her what she was doing in his room when he noticed a clean pile of laundry sitting on Remus' bed.

"Hope you don't mind," she said quickly, sounding nervous, "I didn't know you were still asleep. I just had to leave these for my father but I'll be out of your way in a minute."

"It's fine," he mumbled, aware he was shirtless and pulling the sheet up to his neck, "I have to get up anyway."

He reached out and picked a tee shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head while Sophie laid her father's neatly folded clothes in a dresser drawer, her tense back to him as she moved purposefully.

He was wearing a pair of worn grey pajama bottoms Remus had given him the first night he showed up at his tiny cottage and though they still fit, they were much more snug than when he'd first put them on a month ago. He reluctantly slipped out of his four-poster, aware his body was covered in a cold film of sweat which had been quickly absorbed by the white tee shirt, giving it a see-through look.

Just as he noticed this, Sophie turned around and quickly averted her eyes as she spoke.

"Uh, Molly's on her way to the grocer's," she said, looking around the room, "she was wondering if you wanted something special. I could still catch her, if you like."

Sirius grabbed his faded black shirt from the back of the chair by the desk and pulled it on, covering the telltale signs of his night terrors. "There's nothing I want _she_ can get me," he grumbled, feeling the constant frustration about his lack of freedom rearing up suddenly.

He realized he'd made Sophie even more nervous, and felt the need to clarify. "I meant that food won't make the fact that I'm still stuck here any better."

Sophie smiled sympathetically. "Maybe we could go for another walk, you could stretch your legs, get some air."

Sirius didn't want to admit he'd been thinking of just that ever since the day they snuck out of headquarters and headed for the park.

"Sounds good," he answered ruefully, "there's just one problem – or rather, a whole house full of them."

Sophie stopped averting her gaze and fixed him with a mischievous look. It jolted him and he got a tiny shiver from the intensity of her eyes.

"That just makes it more of a challenge," she stated, her voice matching the look in her eyes.

Sirius had to admit Remus' daughter was full of surprises but he knew he shouldn't be shocked at her excitement over breaking the rules. She was the daughter of a Marauder, after all.

"What if Molly catches us?" He couldn't help but voice the thing that concerned him most. Molly tended to prowl the corridors at night, checking on her children – especially the twins – who, Sirius thought, would have made great Marauders.

Sophie closed the drawer and turned around. "Does she frighten you?" she teased.

He smiled, feeling at ease. "A little," he admitted.

She let out breathy laugh. "Me, too," she said.

They stood in awkward silence until the sounds of Molly's shouting from below filled the house.

"I should go," she said, moving towards the door, "let you get dressed and uh – "

"Yeah," he agreed as his mother's shrill voice joined Molly's screams, "I should see to that."

She opened the door a fraction then hesitated. "So we're on, then?" she asked, as the noise suddenly stopped.

He looked at her, debating whether or not to risk an outing with so many people in the house, especially Remus. He quickly gave in to his basest instincts. "Sure," he said, "It's a date."

Sophie gave him an odd look.

"I mean yes," he corrected quickly, suddenly mortified at the thought that Remus' daughter might think he was hitting on her.

She pressed her lips together and nodded once, trying to suppress a smile. He felt more mortified by her reaction. She obviously thought the idea was ridiculous.

"See you later," she said and closed the door behind her.

Despite the awkward conversation, Sirius felt much better than he had when he woke up. The nightmare seemed distant, like the memory, in the cold light of day (or rather, his childhood bedroom) and he set about making his bed (for once) and picking out a new pair of trousers and a soft, cotton shirt from the half dozen that Remus had picked up for him at some muggle shop before heading into his private bath and washing away the evidence of his nightmare. Feeling refreshed and elated at the thought and anticipation of sneaking out later that night, he went about the drudgery of his day with newfound enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, his mood didn't last as long as he'd hoped.

As Sirius rooted in the pantry that evening, checking to see what Molly had purchased earlier that day, he heard the kitchen door swing open and shut.

"Hiding in the pantry, Black?"

Sirius didn't have to step out and look to know exactly who it was.

"What do want, Sniv – Snape?" he said slowly, deliberately, as he closed the pantry door.

Severus Snape stood by the door, looking like a drippy, oversized vulture. He realized how hot it must be outside.

"I'm looking for your _little friend_," he sneered, his eyes narrowed and his long, hooked nose slightly raised.

"If your referring to Remus," he responded through gritted teeth, "he's not here." It irked him immensely when Snivellus referred to Moony that way.

"Figures," he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

It gave Sirius tremendous satisfaction.

"Though I can't blame him. Being inside this mausoleum all day – "

He deliberately stopped, pulling a face like something had suddenly dawned on him. Sirius wasn't fooled by the poor performance.

"I don't mean to offend, of course. It's just some of us prefer to actually do _something_ instead of cowering indoors."

The last few words hit a nerve and Sirius was pulling out his wand from his pocket before he realized it.

"Hey!"

Sirius dropped his arm as Emmaline Vance walked in.

"I thought you boys were supposed to play nice," she said, her green eyes flitting from Severus' outstretched arm to Sirius' tightly gripped wand. Despite being less than a decade older, she'd been their DADA professor in sixth year and was well acquainted with their feud.

"I'm not sure Black knows what that means," Snape drawled, his wand still pointing at Sirius.

"Of course I know what it means," he said, looking deliberately at Emmaline and ignoring Snape (he knew the greasy git wouldn't dare cast a spell in front of a witness), "but _boys will be boys_." He flashed a wide smile and Emmaline's serious face immediately relaxed.

She shook her head and smiled despite herself, as she gently pushed Snape's arm down to his side. She remembered the argument he used to make whenever she caught him and James (and occasionally, Remus) in a prank.

"I seem to remember how you two like to play," she responded, walking to the center of the room and placing herself between them. "It's not always conducive to getting along."

Snape seemed more annoyed than ever by Emmaline's words and actions. He tucked his wand back into his robes and stood rigid and still, looking like a gargoyle.

"I have no intention of '_playing'_," he spat, "I'm here to see Lupin."

Emmaline looked over at Sirius inquisitively.

"Like I said, not here."

Emmaline looked back at Snape. "Perhaps you could leave a note," she suggested lightly.

Snape's face twisted into a look of suppressed rage as his coal eyes flickered from Emmaline to Sirius, and Sirius could see him forming assumptions.

"Well, if the daughter's here," he said in a low dangerous tone, "I'll have a word with _her_." He gave Sirius a hard, triumphant look that Sirius didn't quite understand.

"Is Sophie here?" Emmaline asked, looking back at him.

He nodded. "I'll get her," he said, and left the kitchen, 'accidentally' shouldering Snape as he walked out of the room.

He found Sophie in the attic, along with Molly, her children and Hermione, scrubbing out the long, dingy room in preparation for Buckbeak, who was being hidden on the grounds of Hogwarts for the summer but had to be moved. Hagrid, who'd been watching him, was leaving on a dangerous mission in a few days time and wouldn't be able to care for Sirius' animal friend. The mention of Snape caught everyone's attention and the twins gave Sophie a look of sympathy (he could see the anger flashing in their eyes) as she followed him out of the room. Sirius was aware that the Weasley children loathed their Potions professor, and he assumed Sophie wasn't fond of him, either, but now he had the feeling there was something more to that hatred.

"What does he want?" Sophie asked, jolting him out of his thoughts. The edge in her voice seemed to confirm his suspicions.

"He won't tell me," he answered in irritation.

They walked down silently past his mother's portrait and when they got to the kitchen door, he hesitated. "I won't leave you alone, if that's what you want," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She crinkled her brow and smirked at the same time. "No worries, _dad_," she whispered back, "I'll be fine."

The word threw him. He didn't know what to say. Sophie took his silence as the end of their short conversation and pushed through into the kitchen. All he could do was follow.

Severus was standing by the table now, still rigid and haughty. Emmaline looked like she was suppressing a smile or a grimace, he couldn't be sure.

"Miss Lupin," he said pompously, "I'd like a word." He looked pointedly at Sirius. "Alone."

Sophie crossed her arms and stared him down but didn't respond. Emmaline moved towards the door, placing a hand on his arm. "Shall we?" she asked, pausing at his side.

"Just a minute," he said, and she moved away to wait at the door.

He turned to Sophie once more, despite her suggestion that he was being as overly protective as Remus (though she hadn't said it in so many words), and asked if she wanted him to stay.

Her eyes, looking darker than usual, raked over his face before settling on his lips. "No thank you," she said firmly, "It's fine." He didn't miss the fact that she wouldn't look him in the eye.

Feeling like he should stay, he walked out into the darkened stairwell uncertainly, escorted by Emmaline, who watched him carefully.

"Look at you," she said as they walked out into the main floor corridor, "worrying about your mate's daughter." She smiled and elbowed him playfully. "It's sweet."

It had been quite a while since it had happened, but he immediately recognized the female behaviour – Emmaline was flirting with him.

"You should see me fret over Harry," he retorted smoothly, in a velvety voice he hadn't heard in many years but recognized quite well.

Emmaline giggled and slapped his arm lightheartedly and it amazed him how easily it all came back to him as they settled into the small front parlour and amused themselves and each other with witty, playful banter and subtle suggestive remarks, until they heard the front door slam loudly and his mother's portrait began to curse and wail once more.

It occurred to Sirius, as he pulled the curtains over the goggling woman's disturbing face, Emmaline waiting patiently in the other room, that he really _was_ glad he hadn't gotten his mother's looks.

* * *

Like I said... :) 

In the next chapter, the gist of the conversation between Sophie and Snape is revealed, and yes, Harry's troubles are about to begin... I'm hoping to post it more quickly. See you soon!


	12. Chapter 12: Damage

**A/N:** OMG, it's been a month since my last update! So much for an update a week, eh? After being _sooo_ sure where this story was going, I came up against a nasty bout of writer's block (though you wouldn't know it from all the versions of this chapter on my desktop). I apologize for making you wait, I just couldn't find the right angle for this chapter (which is especially long to make up for the wait). I wish I could say it was worth it. You'll have to let me know.

Thanks for your reviews last chapter. I look forward to hearing from my faithful reviewers and anyone who wants to say a few words.

**Warnings: **touches on adult themes, but it's rated m so...

**Disclaimer:** The usual...

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**: Damage

The soft sound of voices in the corridor just outside her door woke Sophie the next morning. After spending the wee hours of the morning under the clear night sky with Padfoot (who was more rambunctious and exuberant than usual) she'd gone to bed near dawn, exhausted but feeling better about her run-in with Snape.

The voices, male and female, were hushed yet insistent and it took her a moment to realize they were coming from Ginny and the twins.

"We're just going to nip in for a sec – " came a whisper Sophie was almost sure had been George.

"You do and I'll tell mum!"

"Get out of it, Ginny!" Fred hissed.

"It's none of your business, _little sister_." Sophie imagined the ugly look on George's face as he emphasized the words.

"I mean it!"

Sophie, having looked at the time and noted she'd only been asleep for an hour, crept to the door and swung it open slowly to get a better look. Standing by the solid oak double doors to the drawing room were the twins, their sister and a horrified-looking (and, to Sophie's surprise, completely silent) Hermione.

"What's going on?" she whispered, poking her head out into the dark corridor.

Hermione jumped at the sound of her voice and looked relieved when she realized it was Sophie. The twins turned to face her and their eyes lit up, and Ginny rushed over, looking severe.

"Thank Merlin!" the youngest Weasley breathed, sounding relieved. "These dolts are trying to sneak into the drawing room."

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, "It hasn't even been cleaned."

"That's exactly the point, isn't it?" answered Ginny.

Her brain taking a moment to catch up, she slowly realized what the twins were trying to do. "Oh."

"Yes. Oh."

Not feeling up to the challenge, Sophie nonetheless intervened.

"Sorry, mates," she said, stifling a yawn, "I can't let you do that."

She received two very ugly and incredulous looks.

"Oh, _really_," challenged George.

"You going to stop us?" questioned Fred.

"Yes, Lupin, _stop_ us," taunted George in amusement.

She looked him in the eye and realized he knew that only a few hours ago, she'd been out – with Sirius. She'd been out despite the fact that her father was upstairs asleep, and despite the guilt that had gnawed at her conscience when she begged off a game of chess with him, feigning fatigue and kissed him good night.

The lure of the quiet park – and taking a risk – had overcome any uneasiness she felt about going against what was best for the Order. She'd argued to herself that she was doing the Order a service, keeping Sirius sane with a little fresh air and just a hint of freedom. The truth was more selfish – after her run-in with Snape that afternoon, she'd been feeling out of sorts and needed to get away. Despite his message for her father (he'd already begun brewing the wolfsbane potion once again), he'd left her feeling small. Snape always had a way of putting her life into grim perspective, pointing out her shortcomings and making her doubt herself. It had taken a walk in the park by the Thames, with its doleful bronze statues of men long dead and buried glinting in the soft lamplight, to make her feel more peaceful, serene.

But at the moment, with four sets of eyes trained on her in anticipation, she wasn't feeling very composed.

"You can't be considering letting them in there," Hermione whispered nervously, though Sophie could tell she was doing her best to seem mature and logical, "you're in the Order, and besides, if they got caught, Molly would have your head."

Sophie turned to look at her, slightly stunned by her direct argument. Hermione had always seemed a little wary of her. Sophie thought it was because she'd been the first one to figure out that her and her father were werewolves back in Sophie's fifth year.

"Don't worry," Sophie assured the girl, "I've no intention of letting them poke around in there."

Fred and George looked at each other for a moment, a smirk on their identical faces. They seemed to communicate something no one else was supposed to know.

"You're right, girls," Fred conceded, patting Hermione on the shoulder.

"Absolutely," seconded George, "we were being unreasonable." He wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders, which she shoved off quickly, giving him a dirty look.

"Something's going on," she accused, looking from the twins to Sophie and back.

Hermione narrowed her big brown eyes suspiciously but said nothing.

Sophie, on the other hand, understood completely.

Folding her arms and rolling her eyes, she ushered the twins into her bedroom, and sent away the girls, assuring them she would sent them off to their room after "a good talking to." The youngest Weasley and her sharp friend went away reluctantly, back to their bedroom down the hall.

"So," she began, turning on them as soon as the door was closed, "how do know? Did you overhear us?"

Sirius had approached her at dinner to set up a time for their clandestine outing.

"Nah," answered Fred, dropping onto the foot of her bed, "we saw you two sneaking out."

"Yeah, imagine our surprise – "

"Oh, shut up, Ginger," she blurted out, only half-kidding, "what do you want?"

She'd known the twins long enough to realize she was about to be blackmailed.

"Just a few things for _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_."

""We'll even pay you, if you like."

The last comment earned Fred a dirty look from his brother.

"I don't want your money, thanks," she said curtly. She was a little offended Fred felt he had to offer. "Wait, didn't you have a deal with Dung?" She'd seen them whispering conspirationally with the wizard just last week.

"He's proving to be a bit of a handful," confessed Fred.

"You don't say," she commented, smirking. She'd warned them not to get involved with the old thief.

"So you'll do it?" Fred looked at her expectantly, and she noted how the look was almost identical to that of his little sister.

Sophie looked at the list in his hand, which he held out tentatively towards her, as well as a small sack of galleons, which jangled as it swung from his fingers.

"Fine," she huffed taking them both, "but you could've just asked."

George, who'd been leaning against a bed post, righted himself and went to her side. "Now, where would be the fun in that?" He draped an arm around her and turned to face his brother.

"You're a pal, Lupin," Fred complimented, draping his arm on the opposite side.

Though Sophie was groggy from interrupted sleep, she remembered that being sandwiched between the brothers was not the best place to be. She knew them well enough to get nervous and promptly pulled away. She didn't want to be an unwilling test subject for one of their latest inventions.

"Get out of here, now," she said grumpily, waving them away, "I need my sleep."

"Surely not beauty sleep," Fred smiled.

"You seem to have had your fill already."

Sophie rolled her eyes, and gave each of them a playful swat as they both embraced her in one big bear hug and Disapparated with identical loud, echoing pops.

Later that morning, after only a few more hours of sleep, Sophie casually announced over breakfast that she was going out for the day. Her father, preoccupied with a dusty tome at one end of the kitchen table, barely looked up when she spoke, but Sirius eyed her curiously.

"Not Order business, is it?" he asked, noticing Fred and George eyeing her knowingly.

"No," she answered, knowing full well he knew everybody's assignments. She had to think up a credible excuse fast when she felt her father's hazel eyes on her. "I'm just going to visit a friend."

"Oh?"

"What friend?" her father asked, now thoroughly interested, thanks to Sirius. She would be sure to thank him later.

"Belenus."

Her father's lips pressed together like he was trying to suppress a grimace. Sophie was quite sure that despite being like a son to Kate, her father disapproved of the boy.

"I see."

"Who's Belenus?" Fred asked, which earned him a kick under the table from his brother. George obviously thought it was a ruse.

"He's a friend," she said, feeling all eyes from the kitchen table on her, "from Ireland."

"A friend in London, how nice!" enthused Molly, pushing a plate of pancakes in front of her.

The group around the table were then treated to Molly reminiscing about visiting London with friends as a girl while they ate their breakfast and listened. Her father closed the thick book out of politeness and listened, and Hermione eyed the spine curiously. The twins, meanwhile, were suppressing the urge to roll their eyes as their mother went on and Sirius looked thoroughly bored. Only her father and Ginny managed to look interested and Sophie felt a pang of envy as she looked from the young girl to her mother. She could see the traces of familiarity between their ruddy faces and she imagined Molly had once looked a lot like her daughter, though the years and childbirth had changed her.

Sophie's mind wandered to her mother and she had to stop herself. She rarely indulged thoughts about Eris these days, daydreaming about her mother having taken up a better part of her childhood. She pushed herself up from the table and announced she was leaving, thanked Molly for breakfast and was out the door before anyone had a chance to question her.

Once safely outside, she allowed the empty feeling she got in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought of Eris to take hold. It was a bitter feeling, and knocked the wind out of her for a moment and she sat on the warm, damp earth in Grimmauld Square, tucked safely out of view from the street. She held her face in her hands and it was a while before she was able to get up and Disapparate to Diagon Alley.

**8888888**

Sirius watched the street from the highest window in the attic as Sophie walked into Grimmauld Square. He'd Apparated there, taking advantage of Sophie's interruption and making an excuse that he had to feed Buckbeak. There had been something he'd seen on her face as she sat at breakfast, barely touching her food and listening to Molly reminisce. It was an intangible look that had settled on her brow and made him take notice. Having watched her lately, and just having spent the early hours of the morning with her in the park, he immediately sensed there was something on her mind. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like he could read her like a book, if the book were written in senses and feelings, not concrete, clear, precise words. It was a nice side effect of having lived in his animagus form for many years and reminded him of stories of animals sensing an oncoming storm of natural disaster right before it happened.

He'd also been curious about Remus' reaction when she told him she was visiting a friend. He recognized the name as the same one from the letter and he wondered again if his mate had reason to be concerned. He'd struggled the last week with whether or not to show Remus the letter but had decided against it, mostly because he didn't want to see that look – the one that told him his oldest friend was bitterly disappointed in him. He also didn't want to admit to meddling in Remus and his daughter's relationship. Remus was the father, after all – who was Sirius to get in the way or tell him what to do?

With Harry, it was different. James and Lily had placed their son in his care and he'd be damned if anyone took that away from him. Of course, thinking about Harry only served to remind him that he still didn't have any rights because he was still a fugitive and the Ministry, or rather Scrimgeour, was dragging his feet with the evidence. By the time Buckbeak was done chewing on his bag of rats, any lingering euphoria from the day before had vanished and Sirius was thoroughly depressed.

**8888888**

The morning had gone very quickly for Sophie, who, after searching the shops in Diagon Alley for items on the list, had been forced to step into Knockturn Alley and procure a few things in the black market district's seedy, rundown shops.

In all the times she'd been to London, she'd never been to Knockturn Alley and she found herself trying not to stare as a group of what she thought were hags walked by, brushing past her on the street. "Watch it, blondie," one of them hissed as they passed and Sophie, never having considered herself the least bit blond, walked into the first shop she could find just to get out of the street. She felt entirely out of place and frazzled by her surroundings until she spied a man, completely covered with long, jagged scars and realized he was a werewolf like her. _Of course_, she thought bitterly, _this really is where you belong_. It hit her that she would be turned away more quickly out of Diagon Alley if they knew what she was. With that thought, Sophie gathered up all her Gryffindor courage and went in search of the rest of the items on the list.

By noon, her mokeskin bag was full but she wasn't ready to go back. Headquarters, no matter how many people were in it, was exhaustively gloomy and she didn't fancy having to join in the ongoing clean up, at least not today.

She wandered the streets around Diagon Alley, peering into the muggle shop windows until it hit her. She'd made the point to mention Belenus; she may as well pay him a visit. She hadn't had the time to write him back (and come to think of it, couldn't remember seeing the letter in her rucksack since the last full moon) but she remembered the address on the envelope. Consulting a few shop owners for directions, she soon found herself close to Grimmauld Place and found it more than coincidence that Belenus was living so close to Headquarters. His address was only a few streets down, on Wicklow Street. The name of the street, she knew, couldn't be a coincidence. Bel was a creature of habit.

She soon found the house, a rundown Victorian, which distinguished itself from the rest of the look-alike houses with broken windows, rubbish piled up on the porch and a layer of dirty, peeling paint. It was the shabbiest house on the street by far and Sophie felt a sense of apprehension.

Even so, she knocked on the peeling red door and was greeted by a shirtless fellow with colourful tattoos down both arms.

" Who are you?" he barked, eyeing her up and down.

"Is, uh, Bel home?" she asked, unsure if this was the house.

The shirtless man looked at her for a moment then recognition sparked in his dilated pupils. "The Irish bloke, yeah, he's up on the third floor." He pointed towards the back of the house and walked away, leaving the door open behind him.

Sophie stepped in apprehensively and was met with a thick cloud of smoke and a sickly-sweet stench in the air. On the sitting room sofa, which looked like it had been hauled out of a rubbish bin, the shirtless man and another man, also shirtless, sat side-by-side, passing a used soda can between them while they stared at the flickering screen of a small telly.

They didn't look up as she walked through the room to the back where the man had pointed and she found the steep, narrow staircase. Just as she stepped up, Belenus appeared from what she assumed was the kitchen and swooped her into his long, lanky arms.

"Sophie, I can't believe you're here!" he enthused, refusing to put her down as he twirled her around like a rag doll.

When he finally set her down, she pulled away and took a good look at her friend. He was painfully thin, thinner than she remembered, and his hair was grown out past his ears so that he looked a lot like his roommates in the sitting room (unshaven and unwashed) save for a shirt.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd forgotten me."

She immediately felt a twinge of guilt.

"Sorry, I've just been busy."

"Mm, hmm," he murmured, casting a glance towards his roommates. "Why don't we go up to my room and you can tell me all about it."

Once up in a drab little sliver of a room, Sophie and Belenus quickly caught up. She explained that she couldn't tell him exactly what she'd been up to and, having spoken to Kate, he seemed to understand. He didn't ask her any questions but rambled on about his experiences in London so far. It amused Sophie that Belenus could find tube stations and television so fascinating and had to remind herself that to him, it was a new world full of new experiences. They talked (or rather he talked) for over an hour before a brisk knock at his bedroom door interrupted them.

Belenus excused himself and went out into the hallway to talk to one of his shirtless roommates, who'd thought to pull on a holey tee shirt to cover up his skinny frame. Sophie looked around the room and found, to her delight, that a picture of her and Kate, taken on one of their daytrips to London last year, was sitting by the windowsill, housed in a cheap plastic frame.

Belenus entered the room, grabbing his shoes. "I've got an errand to do," he explained, "I have to go, I'm sorry."

Sophie was disappointed, not in the least because it meant she would have to return to Headquarters sooner than she liked. "Well," she asked, "how long will you be?" She didn't mind waiting for him.

When he suggested she wait so that they could take a walk to "their garden", she happily agreed, but alone in the dreary room, she became restless. She'd noticed the room was in need of a good scrubbing and pulled out her wand, determined to make it more livable. Locking the door with a flick, she set to work with a dusting spell, then a vanishing spell (or three) and finally gathered up his bedclothes and his meager wardrobe in a plastic bag and set off down the street in search of a launderette (there was no room or privacy to do the washing with magic).

She found a small launderette, which she'd passed on her way to see Bel, three streets away, amid a row of muggle shops. Setting down the bag, she stared at the large white machine, intimidating with its collection of buttons and knobs. Though she was familiar with muggle culture, she'd never had to use a machine for laundry before.

"Alright there, love?" a kindly old woman asked her.

Sophie hated to admit she was stumped but she_ did_ need help. She shrugged.

"Never done your own laundry 'fore, eh?" She seemed to find this amusing and smiled a toothless smile.

"Not really," Sophie admitted.

_I could do a soap and drying spell in a lick_, she thought grumpily as the woman chuckled and set the knobs.

The woman, who wore too much make-up and a flowery dress that looked to Sophie like a dressing gown, explained the necessary steps, setting Sophie's load in a machine for her and even feeding it coins (which Sophie hadn't thought to bring).

"Now when it buzzes," she finished, "you pull it all out and stick it in there." She pointed to another row of machines, which Sophie had cleverly deduced were dryers, but felt her heart sink as she noticed a new set of buttons she had no idea how to use.

The older woman seemed to recognize the look of confusion and offered to stay and help her all the way through. Thanking the woman profusely, they settled onto a greying plastic bench outside and the woman regaled her with tales of the neighbourhood as she chain-smoked a pack of Lambert & Butlers. Sophie, who'd never been much in the company of women until she met Kate (with the exception of the professors at Hogwarts), listened, fascinated by the way the woman moved, her face lighting up as she recalled something from her youth and sucked on the end of a fag with her red, puckered lips.

It occurred to Sophie that no one her age would find an afternoon of cleaning, laundry and tales from a stranger very interesting, but it made her feel almost normal for the first time in a long while. She imagined what it would be like to be a muggle, live her life never knowing magic and curses and the pureblood prejudice that was about to start a war.

All too soon, the laundry was done and she folded it up and stuffed it back into the green plastic bag. She wondered if Belenus had returned, if he'd found the note she left tacked to the wall and she hurried back only to find the room empty and the note where she left it on the wall by the window.

Sophie decided to check the kitchen, doubting Belenus had eaten a decent meal since moving to London, for a something to throw together for supper. Padding softly downstairs (it wasn't her home and she felt a little strange wandering around on her own) she noticed his roommates were back, seated where she'd seen them last, passing the same can between them as they talked.

"… You should have seen him, mate, strutting around. Like he'd been hustling all his life."

"Did he get much business?"

"Got himself a rich old codger. Could 'ave gotten a few more quid if 'e was willing to take off 'orf _all_ his clothes."

The other man snorted and Sophie felt her blood go cold.

"He was the '_Bel_' o' the Ball, he was," the other man chortled.

Sophie felt the wind knocked out of her lungs for the second time that day, though the feeling was more pronounced as her mind wrapped around what she'd just overheard. Belenus, her mate, her fellow lycan, was a hustler.

When she recovered a little from the shock, she moved towards the front door, careful not to be seen or heard by his roommates. She'd just reached the door and was turning the handle when Belenus pulled it open and walked in.

He was dressed in the same faded tee shirt he always wore, but she noticed his jeans, crisp and new, for the first time. There was no way he would be able to afford to live and buy new clothes '_delivering packages'_, like he'd claimed he been doing.

"You alright?" he asked when he laid eyes upon her, "you're looking a bit peaky. They didn't offer you anything, did they?" he asked, gesturing towards his roommates on the couch.

Sophie shook her head, but found her voice was failing her. "I have to go," she managed to mumble, pushing past him. She was halfway down the street before he caught up.

"What did they say?" he demanded. He grabbed her roughly by the arm, his lycan strength taking hold of him, and whirled her around. "What did they tell you?" He sounded desperate.

She wrenched away forcefully and turned to go but he stepped in front of her. "Sophie?" His voice was small and pleading as his fingers clenched around her wrists and he pulled her into a nearby alley, away from the muggles walking along the sunny street.

"Why are you doing it?"

No response came as his eyes seared despairingly into hers. "I need the money," he finally whispered.

"Don't we all," she whispered back.

He shook his head and scoffed, tightening his grip. "You've got your _daddy_, I don't have anyone."

"You've got Kate."

"The _pack_ has got Kate. _I_ don't have anyone."

The sorrow in his eyes softened her for a moment but she still couldn't reconcile his actions.

"Go back to Ireland," she said suddenly, "apologize to Paddy – kiss his arse if you have to – you don't need to be doing this."

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because nothing I do will change the fact that I'm bent," he told her scornfully.

It was the one secret her friend had kept hidden from the pack, where secrets were few. She'd known when she lived there it would only be a matter of time before Corcoran found out and having wondered at how he would react to the news that his favourite son was a pouf, now she knew. It saddened her to think of how unfair the old wizard was being, punishing Belenus for something he could control as much as being a werewolf. She was barely aware that her hands were going numb as she tried to embrace him. This time he was the one to pull away.

"I don't need your pity," he hissed. She sensed the wolf in him dangerously close to the surface. "You think I'm the first of our kind to stoop to this level?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and dug in his nails. "You've been lucky so far, but – "

"But what?" The wolf inside stirred in her as well.

"It's only a matter of time before you and your da are stooping to the same level."

She didn't know exactly what bothered her more – the suggestion he made or the fact that he was probably right. Her sympathy having turned quickly to anger, she instinctually raised her hand and raked her nails across his cheek with a hard slap.

Belenus lost control. He slammed her against the alley wall, his eyes burning in rage, words tumbling out in an incoherent snarl as he repeated the action over and over. The sharp pain that seared through her back as it was knocked against rough brick was numbed by shock and it took her a moment to shove him back with all her force. He skidded back as he was knocked to the ground but the sudden action seemed to snap him out of his lycan rage. He scrambled to his feet, apologizing, and tried to pull her close but she resisted. Giving up, he backed away and they stood there, disheveled and bleeding and silent.

Sophie was dimly aware of voices coming from the street and it occurred to her that if they stood there long enough the authorities might show up and then things would really get out of hand. Gathering up her strength, which seemed to have left her after the sudden attack, she turned to the back of the alley and walked deeper into shadow. With barely a glance towards Belenus, who uttered an apology once again, his voice breaking as he spoke, she Disapparated, hearing a faint pop, not her own, behind her as she left.

**8888888**

"How 'bout another round?" Sirius asked, holding a half-empty bottle of elf-made wine aloft.

"None for me thanks," Arthur answered, cupping his hand over his partially-full glass, "I like to keep a clear head with the twins around." He chuckled a bit but Remus thought he was probably serious.

"You, Moony?"

Remus caught Molly's eye and she gave him a stern look.

"No thanks," he responded, "I prefer my wine with a nice steak." He smiled genially but Sirius glowered.

"Right," he said shrugging, though he looked annoyed, "more for me."

He poured himself his third glass of red wine, sloshing a little on the dark-stained table.

"Don't you think you'd had enough?" Molly asked, watching from the counter as she prepared supper.

Sirius gave a lopsided smirk but ignored her. "It's enough when I forget where I am," he mumbled under his breath so only Remus could hear him.

Remus didn't know what had happened from last night to this evening to put Sirius in such a foul mood. Only yesterday, he was smiling like a Cheshire cat, gloating over his fortune-telling skills. "I had a feeling ol' Emmy wouldn't be able to keep her hands off me," he'd boasted, telling Remus about his afternoon with the flaxen-haired witch. Remus knew Sirius was only half-joking when he said this, but the small bout of flirting had put him in a better mood than he'd been in since stepping foot in that house. Even this morning, as Sirius pulled on a rumpled shirt, he was whistling absentmindedly and humming a tune under his breath. But now, Sirius was morose and determined to drink himself into a stupor – or amnesia – whichever came first.

"Why don't I help you with that, dear?" Arthur asked suddenly, when Sirius went for the bottle once more. He excused himself from the table, giving Remus a pointed but kind look, as if to say, "you best get your mate under control," and joined Molly in the chopping of vegetables.

Sirius," he breathed, "the children will be down soon. Can't you wait until _after_ supper to get sloshed?" He was annoyed with Sirius and he couldn't hide it. It was just like him to put on a show of his misery.

Sirius stared at him for a long moment, his eyes a dull storm. "I seem to recall," he answered slowly, "that this is still my house. I can get sloshed whenever I choose."

"Well, how about you do it in a different room, away from innocent eyes," Remus suggested, trying to keep from losing his temper. He was sure that he was in for an argument and braced himself for Sirius' wrath.

"Fine," came the petulant reply.

Sirius pushed back his chair with a scrape, picked up his glass, went over to the pantry and pulled out an dusty bottle of wine, the cork still firmly in place.

Molly's lips seemed to disappear as she watched him amble out of the kitchen, and disappear up the stairs.

_Great_, thought Remus, _he'll probably end up passed out on my bed_. Sirius had always seemed to end up there after a bout of heavy drinking when they were boys.

Just as he was resigning himself to a night of sleeping in Sirius' lumpy childhood bed while his oldest friend drooled on his pillow, a voice boomed out from the fireplace and the house was sent into chaos.

**8888888**

Sophie stood among the trees in Grimmauld Square for a long time, her mind in shock over the events of the day. She thought it wasn't possible for anyone to feel more desolate and confused than she did at the moment. A day that had begun with such promise had descended into one of the worst days of her life. She was disappointed in Belenus, livid with Corcoran and angry at the Ministry and their prejudice ways. It was _their_ fault her friend was forced to trade sex for money just to survive. It was _their_ fault that her father was struggling to make ends meet and trying to hide the dire financial predicament they were in from her. It was _their_ fault that she and a handful of witches and wizards were holed up in a decaying mansion in the middle of London trying to protect the wizarding (and muggle) world from an evil they swore didn't exist.

A faint pop made her jump as Tonks Apparated feet from where she stood, cowering in the darkness of the Square. A look of surprise flit across the young witch's face but was quickly replaced by concern.

"Are you off somewhere?" she asked.

"Just coming back," she replied, hiding her bruised wrists behind her back.

"So you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Harry was attacked tonight, on Dung's watch. I'm here to see what I can do to help."

It took Sophie a moment to let the words sink in. "Attacked? Was it Death Eaters?" Her heart began to beat loudly in her chest at the thought of masked men sweeping into Little Whinging.

Tonks shook her head. "Dementors apparently," she answered. "I know," she went on correctly reading the look of horror on Sophie's face.

They stood for a moment in the darkness, the faint sound of traffic the only sound in the Square.

"We best get in there," Tonks said, moving out of the trees, "Sirius must be going mad."

Sophie followed, dimly aware of crossing the street and stepping onto the cracked front steps before the door flew open and they were met with shouting voices, the sound of weeping and Sirius' mother shrieking profanities over the ruckus.

* * *

This chapter may feel a bit disjointed but there is a method to my madness. I needed to clarify Sophie's relationship with Belenus, after rereading the chapter where I mention him and realizing that it could be taken the wrong way. I tend to write alot more backstory than actually ends up on the screen, making for a few head-scratching moments, I'm sure.

In case anyone's interested, the park Padfoot and Sophie visit is based on the Victoria Embankment Gardens, and according to the generally accepted location of Grimmauld Place (near King's Cross Station in North London), there is a Wicklow Street located in that area.

Next chapter coming sometime this century! (Just kidding, it'll be sooner than that.)


	13. Chapter 13: Peril

**A/N:** Woohoo! I can't believe it! I actually finished another chapter! Okay, now that I've got that out of my system...

**Warnings:** Just some language...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Potterverse, that privilege belongs to JK Rowling, who is the mastermind behind these beloved characters. I'm just borrowing them a little. I promise to put them back unscathed.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**: Peril

The next few days for Sophie were more than she could bear. After walking in on what could only be described as bedlam the night Harry and his cousin were attacked by Dementors, she found herself thrust back into guard duty. The advantage of that was that she was spared having to listen to the constant fretting of his friends and Mrs. Weasley, and was able to avoid Sirius Black, who had been thrown into a dark and angry mood. She would have almost enjoyed her time away from headquarters if it hadn't been for her constant nagging thoughts and being forced to patrol Privet Drive with a partner.

After that strange, confusing day, Sophie's mind had been on her lycan friend and his predicament. She wondered how he was and longed to see him, even though she didn't know what she would say. Belenus had become her best friend over the last year and it pained her to think of him so desperate and alone that he would turn to selling himself to survive. She thought about their favourite garden, where during a simpler time, he'd 'proposed', telling her if he wasn't attracted to men, he would surely be attracted to her. She'd laughed at the gesture, figuring it would probably be the only proposal she'd get in her lifetime.

Belenus didn't want to be gay, as much as he didn't want to be a werewolf, but he had resigned himself early on to the fact that neither choice was in his hands. While seeming to accept who he was, but he'd always been afraid of being accepted by the others in the pack, who followed whatever Paddy Corcoran dictated. He knew from living under his rules since he was a small child that Corcoran was old-fashioned and didn't tolerate much he didn't understand and it worried him. Sophie sensed from the time he told her he was gay that Belenus was resigned to one day being forced to leave his home. It saddened and angered her that he was sure he would be shunned but oddly, now that it had come to pass, the knowledge that Corcoran was just like anybody else was reassuring to Sophie. It meant that he was a _man_ first, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and he held the same principles and prejudices as wizards and muggles alike.

Sophie's thoughts had turned to Kate the next few days as well. She had taken Belenus under her wing, had loved him like a son. Sophie wondered if she _had_ abandoned him in favour of Corcoran, like Bel's words suggested, or if she just didn't know how to deal with her changing world.

Kate had once been a regular witch, had been raised in a wizarding family and had married young at the behest of her parents. She'd attended Beauxbatons in France, graduated with OWLs in Divination, Potions and Astronomy, and had a brilliant future in front of her. She had the world at her feet, or so she thought at the time, and felt only more blessed when she became pregnant with the first child her side of the family had seen since her own birth. Her family, which she never mentioned by name, had put a lot of stock in the birth of her child, as did her husband's (which Sophie had learned through Belenus was the LeStranges, a pureblood family associated with Death Eaters). When she was bitten it was not only a personal tragedy but one that touched two pureblood families and threatened the next generation. Kate had run in fear of her own life and the life of her child, knowing that her own family would never allow her to try to bring the child into the world and fearing that her husband's family would take her life to keep their name – their bloodline – pure. She was young, afraid and naïve about the world and she learned quickly and harshly what being a werewolf meant.

Her salvation, she told Sophie, was Remus, who risked his life and saved hers, not once but twice. Kate's life took on a whole new meaning in Corcoran's pack and Belenus had been a large part of that. Sophie just couldn't fathom Kate turning away from the closest person she had to family but knew it was entirely possible. Her own mother had done it, after all.

Sophie had pondered writing to Kate about Belenus but, again, didn't know what she'd say. There was so much at stake for Kate that Sophie didn't understand, she didn't feel right passing judgment on the woman's actions. She just hoped that Belenus was wrong and that Kate hadn't abandoned him. He needed someone to lean on and guide him and it was clear Sophie wasn't that person.

It wasn't until she finally had a moment to speak to her father that she found out that Kate wasn't as enamored with Corcoran's leadership as she thought. She'd been questioning him and his choice to stay out of the oncoming war, even though the pack was more aware than most that Voldemort had indeed regained his powers.

Her father seemed to think that Kate would be open to joining the Order but Sophie wasn't so sure. Kate had always been loyal to Corcoran, encouraging Sophie to believe in his view of werewolves, to see the power of the curse that ran through their veins. Kate, who knew more about what had happened to Sophie back at the end of her fifth year than anyone else (as Sophie had opened up and revealed some details about the attack to the one person she thought would understand), was a lycan first, and had encouraged her to seek revenge, going as far as traveling to Hogsmeade on her own to question Madame Rosemerta about what she remembered (and obliviating her afterwards, much to Sophie's horror). Sophie, though grateful to Kate and the pack for taking her in, couldn't do what Kate suggested. It went against everything her father had taught her – she wasn't about to abandon those values, held dear by her father and passed to her with love, to satisfy a primal need for revenge.

Sophie was almost sure that if Kate joined the Order of the Phoenix, she would come armed with her own agenda. The thought of it made Sophie nervous but she couldn't voice her doubts. Her father had a soft spot for Kate, and she didn't want to be the one to open his eyes to who she really was when Sophie wasn't so sure herself.

A few days after the Dementor attack, Sophie found herself under an invisibility cloak, crouched in the shadow of a large tree across the way from the Dursleys, with a chatty Hestia Jones at her side. Jones, who'd been in Gryffindor with her father and had graduated a year after he did, had taken to reminiscing about her father and his friends. As Sophie listened, forced to by the close proximity and lack of any action across the street, she was struck by how many details the woman remembered about four boys a year older than she was. It wasn't until she'd heard Sirius' name mentioned for the umpteenth time that she realized why – Hestia Jones had been infatuated with Sirius in school and from the way she went on about him, she hadn't gotten over her little crush.

"I can't get over how much everyone's changed," Hestia sighed as she finished a blow-by-blow account of a twenty-year-old Quidditch match that Sirius – a Beater – and James – a Keeper – had won for Gryffindor. "Sirius, especially, the poor dear. He's endured so much, it's just so… so _sad._"

Sophie thought that "sad" was a gross understatement for what Sirius Black had endured for a dozen years in Azkaban, though she didn't voice her opinion, hoping Hestia would get the hint and stop prattling on.

"He's trapped in that horrid house," she went on, her voice sounding, to Sophie, falsely sympathetic, "He must be so lonely."

Sophie chose not to answer, not really sure what Hestia wanted to know, only that she was fishing for information.

Hestia tore her eyes from the front of the Dursley house and looked at Sophie earnestly, catching her off-guard as she felt the brown eyes burn into her.

"He _has_ been lonely, hasn't he?" Hestia looked at her expectantly, biting on her bottom lip in anticipation.

"I suppose," she answered, suddenly catching on, "but then I don't know everything." Considering the lack of unattached females in the Order, Sophie couldn't see that Sirius had much choice, though she didn't tell Hestia that.

"Hmm," was her only response as Hestia turned her dark eyes once again to the house across the street.

They sat in silence for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched Harry's corpulent uncle wedge himself into the family station wagon and drive away. The sun had started to fade and the lights in the house shone through the curtained windows. Sophie saw Harry's silhouette in an upper story window for a split second before it disappeared.

"What were they like in school?" Sophie asked, trying to rid her mind of the nagging thoughts and more than a little curious about her father and his friends.

Hestia turned her head to look up and down the street. "Well," she began, her voice alight with fervor, "Sirius Black was one of the most popular boys in school, devilishly handsome, wealthy, charming – he had it _all_, including any girl he ever wanted. He and James together were known as the '_Golden Duo'_, both popular and talented – on and _off_ the pitch, if you know what I mean." Hestia's eyes twinkled at the recollection. "Your father was always by their sides, of course," she went on more soberly, "but he was quieter, more studious – less of a troublemaker, or so we thought. Turns out he was right along with them on every prank."

"Prank?"

Hestia giggled and her cheeks flushed a little from the effort. "They were famous for pranks – the four of them – Sirius, James, Remus and Peter – "

As soon as she said the name, the smile left her lips. "Sorry, dear, didn't mean to bring up _that_ one."

They sat in silence once more, the traitor's name changing the mood.

"So," Sophie said softly as the darkness settled around them, "Sirius was a ladies' man, eh?"

There was a hint of amusement in her voice that didn't go unnoticed.

"I know it's hard to see now, but he was quite a catch in his day. Of course, no one could catch him." There was disappointment in her voice. "Even now, if he put on a few pounds, took care of himself… well, the blueprint's still there, if you know what I mean."

Sophie thought about the Black family portrait hanging over the mantle in Orion Black's private study and how alike the older man and his eldest son looked. "If he stopped scowling, maybe," she agreed.

"Well, you can't blame him lately, can you?"

She was referring to the last few days, as Sirius had become hostile, volatile, and frustrated about leaving Harry in his aunt's house instead of removing him immediately, like he would have done if the decision were in his hands.

"My father is worried about Harry as well, but he doesn't go biting everyone's head off," she responded, thinking of the scene that morning at the kitchen table they had both witnessed when Sirius barked at Molly over a comment she made about Harry. It was such a stark contrast to the playful, happy man she'd snuck out with only a few days ago.

"Yes, well your father has meaning in his life, something Sirius is lacking right now."

Sophie gave her a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in question. Though it was dark out, they were seated close enough for Hestia to read her expression.

"He does, sweetie. He has _you_."

When Sophie didn't respond she went on.

"We always knew, the Gryffindor girls and I, that Remus Lupin would make an excellent father. We used to talk about the boys, you know, who would be the most devoted, the most successful, things like that. His name always came up when we talked about which boys were the best potential husbands. Lily, particularly, was adamant that he was the sweetest boy alive."

Sophie didn't know why, but she found her face flushed with embarrassment. She thought about the Gryffindor girls, all sitting around in someone's dorm room in their pajamas, comparing boys like Chocolate Frog cards. It was something she knew the other girls did when she was at Hogwarts, though she was never invited to participate, but she just couldn't imagine a bunch of teenage girls swooning over her father's apparent paternal instincts. It was just strange.

"And what was Sirius voted?" she asked trying to take her mind off the discomfiting thought.

Hestia smiled. "Best shag, of course."

The discomfiting feeling returned.

"Well, that's what some of the girls claimed, anyway. I wouldn't know from personal experience."

Sophie was saved the trouble of responding when a faint pop filled the air and Bill stepped out of the shadows. He was there to relieve Hestia, who would be pulling guard duty at the Ministry later that evening. Hestia crawled out from under the invisibility cloak and was gone with a loud pop and Bill took her place, settling into the same spot Hestia had been sitting.

"She talk your ear off?" he asked, his eyes scanning the street.

"No," Sophie answered.

Bill gave her a knowing look.

"Maybe a little."

He smiled. "She loves to talk, that one. I patrolled with her two days ago and she nearly drove me mad. But at least she kept me awake."

Sophie nodded. "I know what you mean. The only action we've seen all day is the uncle driving away about ten minutes ago."

Just as she said this, headlights came around the corner.

"And now he's back," Bill whispered, as they watched Vernon Dursley haul himself out of the car, bags of take away in his arms.

"Think any of that's for Harry?" he asked as the large, wide backside disappeared behind the front door.

"Doubt it."

Bill made a disgusted face. "They are the nastiest muggles I've ever seen."

Sophie agreed but didn't say so.

After a while, Bill suggested she stretch her legs, which she agreed with and, rapping the top of her head with her wand, she placed a Disillusionment Charm on herself and slipped out from beneath the large cloak.

She waited until a car passed before strolling across the street, eager to take a closer look at the Dursley household. She walked around the perimeter, her wand out just in case, and stopped by the kitchen window. Sure enough, the three Dursleys sat around the table, sucking grease off their fingers and chewing on fried chicken, while the fourth chair sat empty. Sophie looked at the grease-stained boxes on the table and noticed they were empty as well. They hadn't even bought enough for Harry -- that, or the cousin had eaten his share. _Bastards_, she thought angrily. _Greedy fucking gits_.

As she pondered how truly evil people could be, a scraping sound at the other end of the garden told her she wasn't alone. She was aware of a presence, mere feet away, though the presence, which stood in the shadow of large rose bushes, apparently didn't know she was there. She thought about signaling Bill, but seeing as she was behind the house and was currently Disillusioned, she knew it wasn't an option.

Sophie stood still, barely breathing, her wand pointed towards the shadows. She was aware of someone stirring then a tall, cloaked figure stepped out of the shadow and her heart leapt into her throat. The figure was draped in black and wore a mask, though she could see blonde tendrils peeking out from beneath the hood. The figure, which she could tell from movement and scent was a man, flit into the shadow of another rosebush, inching closer to the house and inadvertently approaching her. _Shite_, she thought. She didn't want to move. Any step she took now that the man was so close would surely alert him to her presence. She thought about cursing him but then thought better of it. The whole point of surveillance was not to let anyone – especially Death Eaters – know that Harry was being protected. It would leave anyone on guard duty vulnerable to ambush.

Sophie leant back as far as she could, pressing her back against the side of the house without moving her feet from their spot on the freshly cut grass as the Death Eater stepped towards the window and peered in. He was so close, Sophie could hear his erratic breathing and the muttering under his breath.

"Told him I wouldn't be able to do a goddamn thing," the deep, haughty voice mumbled, "Waste of bloody time."

He surveyed the domestic scene for a few more seconds before making a small dismissive noise and turning to leave. Sophie didn't dare relax until the figure was lost in the shadow. A moment later, as she straightened up slowly, she heard a faint pop. She stood still in the darkness for a few minutes, listening to the sounds around her and memorizing the scent of the Death Eater, which lingered in the air, as well as his build and the sound of his voice. When she was sure he was gone, she moved, practically running back across the street to where Bill was safely hidden under Moody's cloak.

As soon as she slipped under the cloak, she rapped herself on the head and told him about her encounter. The little colour in his face drained away as he jumped up, pulling her with him. He insisted that they do a sweep of the perimeter together, and rapping herself on the head once more, she placed the charm and slipped out from under the cloak. Wands at the ready, they walked around the block, leaving shield charms around the Dursley house to alert them if anyone came near the house while they patrolled the adjacent streets. After half an hour, they returned to their post, satisfied that no other Death Eaters were lurking but both unnerved by the fact that a Death Eater had gotten so close.

They agreed to wait for the next Order member to relieve Sophie of her post to let Dumbledore know what had happened. As soon as Tonks Apparated by their side, Sophie was off without any explanation. She immediately Apparated to Grimmauld Square and cautiously made her way back inside, where she flooed Dumbledore's office to tell him the news.

**8888888**

"BASTARDS!" Sirius yelled as he toppled an end table with a swift flick of his wand.

"MOTHERFUCKING EVIL SHITE BASTARDS! I KNEW IT WAS THEM!"

Remus watched his mate patiently from across the room, waiting for him to stop waving his hand erratically, not keen on being on the wrong end of a curse.

"Sirius," he said, his voice purposefully soothing though he felt less than soothed at the moment, "please calm down. This isn't going to do any good."

As soon as he finished, Mrs. Black's portrait kicked in, yelling profanities. Sirius, looking livid, seemed to deflate as his mother's voice filled the room.

"I'll get it," Remus said, stepping out into the corridor from the small front parlour and stunning the portrait before pulling the curtains closed once more. Molly emerged from below, looking annoyed and almost as haggard as Sirius.

"Calm him down, will you Remus?" she asked in whisper, "the children don't need to hear his petulant outbursts."

Remus nodded and turned back towards the parlour, trying to hide his irritation with Molly. She had been almost as bad as Sirius these past few days, sobbing and fretting over her son's best friend. At first, Remus had been surprised that Molly seemed to regard Harry with such affection, and was secretly grateful, but after listening to her jabbering on and on about the attack, he was ready to throttle her – if he didn't throttle Sirius first.

When he returned to the parlour, he found Sirius seated on the small settee, slumped over, head in his hands. He looked beat down, pathetic and the anger Remus felt towards his oldest friend ebbed away. He knew that Sirius was frustrated, only wanted to see Harry safe and fulfill his duties as godfather. It was the one thing he could do for James, though it would never make up for the guilt Sirius held onto, convinced he had failed James and Lily.

"Sirius?"

He settled down beside his mate and patted him on the back. Sirius let out a long sigh and straightened up, dropping his hands to his lap heavily.

"I hate this fucking situation, Remus," he breathed, sounding as pathetic as he looked.

"I know, mate," he agreed, his hand rubbing circles on his friend's back. It was what James used to do to calm Sirius down when he lost his temper and it always seemed to work.

They sat side by side for a while, Remus moving his hand away now that Sirius seemed more in control of himself. They were both quiet, Sirius deep in thought and Remus not wanting to set him off once again.

A knock at the door made them both look up at the same time. Dumbledore and Sophie walked in together, the old man smiling genially and the young woman looking apprehensive.

Sirius jumped up immediately but when he spoke he was more subdued. "What are we going to do about this?" he asked. Remus figured he was holding back in Dumbledore's presence.

"Firstly, Sirius, I think we need to hear the details of what transpired tonight." He motioned towards Sophie and suggested they all sit down.

"What is there to know – a filthy Death Eater had his nose pressed up against the glass of the Durselys with Harry inside!"

Dumbledore kept his calm demeanor but gave Sirius a stern look. "Sophie," he said, turning towards Remus' daughter, "is there any thing else you can think of, some detail you didn't think to mention before?"

Sirius huffed in exasperation, and began to pace around the back of the sofa, but Dumbledore ignored him and focused on Sophie, who glanced at her father before answering.

"Um, he had blonde hair, I think," she answered, sounding unsure, "and um...," she hesitated and Remus understood.

"You remember his scent," he finished, 'don't you." It was more of a statement than a question. He had heightened senses but he was aware that hers were stronger.

"I memorized his voice, too."

At this, Sirius stopped and dropped down on the settee beside him.

"He spoke to you? I thought you said he didn't know you were there?"

Sophie looked affronted at the accusatory tone of his voice. "He was talking to _himself_," she answered with rancor.

"Do you remember what he said?" Dumbledore asked while Sirius and Sophie glared at each other.

Sophie tore her eyes away first and they softened when she looked at her former Headmaster. "Something about telling 'him' he wouldn't able to do anything and then he complained about wasting his time."

Dumbledore seemed to ponder this, leaning back and tapping his finger to his chin. Remus, who was speechless at the thought of Sophie being that close to someone so dangerous, couldn't think of anything else.

"That proves it," Sirius jumped in, losing patience quickly, "we need to get him out of there now!"

Albus focused his keen blue eyes on Sirius. "No," he said simply and with a definite finality to his tone, "Alastor's plan is sound. We'll stick to the plan." He got up abruptly. "Remus," he went on, addressing him and ignoring the filthy look Sirius was giving him, "Tonks has the letter. If you wouldn't mind going over the details once more, making sure everyone's got their assignments for tomorrow."

"Yes, of course," he nodded.

"Great.' Dumbledore bowed to Sophie. "Good night, dear," he said taking her hand and pressing it briefly to his lips. "Sirius," he motioned and gave him a small smile, "be patient. By this time tomorrow, Harry will be safe under your roof."

Sirius nodded once, silently acknowledging the headmaster's words before Dumbledore swept from the room, his midnight blue robes billowing softly behind him. Remus was always amazed at the old wizard's agility and was struck by it once again as he left.

"Are we done?"

Sophie looked tired and annoyed and her foot was bouncing against his nervously as she sat across from him.

"Yes, of course," he answered.

"Good," she said standing up, "I'm going to bed."

"Alright." He had a feeling she would be up all night staring at the ceiling.

As Sophie walked away, Remus felt the need to say something about the danger she'd been in tonight.

"Sophie?" he called as Sirius watched in silence.

"Yes?" She turned and studied him with her hazel eyes.

He looked at his daughter and found he didn't know what to say. She hadn't gone looking for trouble and as perturbed as he was by the thought of what might have happened, he couldn't find fault in her actions. If anything, the restraint and judgment she'd shown when faced with a Death Eater was commendable.

"Sweet dreams."

Her lips curved up slightly at the corners and her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Thanks. You, too."

She hesitated a moment before walking back kissing him on the cheek. "Good night, dad," she said softly, her voice filling him with warmth as she wrapped her arms around him briefly.

She left the room and Sirius stirred, sighing loudly to get his attention.

"Yes, Padfoot?"

"You don't have to say it like that," he grumbled.

Remus turned to look at his mate, who had a dark, pouty look on his face that was almost comical. "What is it?" he asked, sounding more agreeable.

"You'll take care of him, won't you?" he asked, his grey eyes suddenly full of concern for his godson. "You'll make sure he gets here safe?"

Remus regarded his friend for a moment, bemused at the way he could switch emotions so easily. He'd always been like that as a boy, but his mood swings seemed more drastic now.

"I'll guard him with my life," he answered truthfully. He owed James and Lily at least that.

Sirius seemed satisfied with his response. "Good," he stated, slapping Remus once on the back, "now, how about a nightcap?"

Remus sighed as he got up to follow Sirius to the kitchen, resigned to monitoring his volatile mate for the rest of the night, and wondered if he'd be able to sleep or if he'd be spending another night nudging his oldest friend out of another nightmare.

* * *

I wasn't going to get into Kate's background just yet but it seemed to fit the chapter... her family ties will be explored in upcoming chapters but if you look at the subjects she took in school, you may get a clue as to who they are...

I was hoping to polish this chapter a little but decided to post it anyway, as a little birthday gift to myself. Help make it a good one by reviewing please. It will put a smile on this old girl's face (not _that_ old, but getting there, like everyone else)...

The next chapter will have some Remus/Tonks action... get your minds out of the gutter, people... ;)


	14. Chapter 14: The Rescue

**A/N**: As promised, this chapter has Remus/Tonks interaction. It's also longer than usual. Hope you like it.

**Disclaimer**: The usual...

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**:The Rescue

Sophie awoke early the next morning, an anxious feeling gnawing at her conscience. After the meeting with Dumbledore, her father and Sirius, she'd gone up to bed and spent an hour lying in the antique four-poster, trying in vain to get to sleep until, frustrated, she'd gotten up and made her way to Fred and George's room. She'd hardly spoken to them for days, too busy with Order business to spend any time with her friends (and truthfully, not in any mood to talk since her row with Belenus), and she longed to be in their company, if only to put a smile on her face. She'd knocked once then entered, finding the twins pretending to be fast asleep. They jumped out of bed, still fully clothed, when they realized she wasn't their mother doing her nightly bed check.

"Do what do we owe the pleasure?" George had asked, pulling her into the room and placing a charm on the door. Sophie figured that was how they'd known she was coming.

Fred pulled out a sack of sweets and offered her one. "Have you come for a taste of one of _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_?"

"Or perhaps you're looking for a taste of something else?" George waggled his brows comically.

After assuring them, in no uncertain terms, she wasn't there for sweets or sex (the idea of both making her cringe), she settled down onto a chair and spent the next few hours catching up with her fellow Gryffindors. It had been so long since she'd actually spent any length of time with her old friends, she found she missed the twins' volleying banter. Sophie didn't even have to speak, just listen as they filled her in on all their recent breakthroughs and achievements in the world of gags and pranks. After almost getting caught by Molly (thanks to a particularly funny anecdote about how they'd accidentally charmed their bottoms blue in the name of research) Sophie had Apparated back to her room and was finally able to get some sleep. Unfortunately, a few hours later, the now familiar shrieks of Sirius' mother roused her from a heavy sleep and forced her out of bed.

She hadn't forgotten today was the day the Order would sweep in and extricate Harry from his current situation, but if she had she would have been reminded soon enough. She passed Molly on the way down to the kitchen, muttering to herself about, "so many things still to do," before Harry showed up, and Ron and Hermione whispered anxiously to one another as they waited in line for the safest bathroom in the house (Sophie was glad she was in one of the rooms with a private bath, even though it was dingy and small and she suspected a ghoul was living under the sink). By the time she reached the kitchen all she wanted to do was crawl back in bed and wait for evening, and Harry, to come. She trod wearily when she found herself alone with Sirius, who was steeping a cup of tea.

Sophie lingered by the table, waiting for Sirius to move away from the counter before she approached the high open shelves and pulled down a mug for herself. She mumbled a barely coherent, "morning," as she passed him, hoping it was just enough satisfy him and not so much it touched a nerve.

She could feel Sirius's eyes on her as she poured the boiling water into the cup over the store-bought bag. She wished her father hadn't had to leave so soon to get everything in order for the night's special task.

"Could I have a word with you?" she heard him ask from behind her. She turned and found him standing by the long, narrow island that separated the kitchen into two distinct spaces.

"Sure," she said lightly, trying to hide the apprehension she felt. She'd seen him blow up one too many times lately and didn't fancy seeing it again any time soon.

"I just wanted to apologize for last night," he began, looking slightly over her head, not meeting her eyes, "I didn't mean anything by it."

She feigned a smile and nodded. "It's fine," she lied.

He looked at her for a moment, his smoky eyes narrowing just a tad, then moved away. "Good," he said, sitting down at the table, "all settled then."

Sophie felt the hollowness of his actions and her own. It was an apology given out of obligation (as she was his oldest friend's daughter) and she'd spent too many hours lying awake the night before, his accusatory tone added to the torturous jumble of negative thoughts swimming through her head, to forgive so easily.

Sophie chose a seat close to his but not enough that either of them would feel the need to engage in the sort of polite conversation that bounced around the subterranean room every morning.

As he sat reading the _Daily Prophet_, his cup of tea forgotten beside him, she regarded him carefully. His face was unsmiling as he read, his eyes flicked over the pages quickly as if only scanning for words of interest, and his cool grey eyes were clear, the storm that had settled in them the last few days seeming to have passed. The tension that wound through her body slackened a little and the resentment slipped away. She was almost finished her cup when Molly ambled in looking frazzled, the usual loose bun in her hair set askew.

"Sophie," she said as she swept past her towards the fresh bread and carton of eggs, "I would love it if you could speak to those _friends_ of yours about giving Harry his space when he gets here tonight. He doesn't need to be pounced on by two troublemakers." It was clear that she was referring to Fred and George and their joke shop paraphernalia.

"Oh, I don't know, Molly," Sirius answered for her, "I'm sure _my_ godson could use a laugh when he arrives."

The smile he bestowed on the older woman from across the room gave a dark menacing quality to his gaunt face.

"Our thoughts exactly," came a chorus from the doorway as Fred and George Apparated into the kitchen with a loud, deafening pop. Sophie was sure her eardrums had been shattered but was thankful she'd been temporarily impaired when Molly began to holler at them.

"Don't you _dare_ try and give Harry one of those nasty things you too have been cooking up in that room! I'll be checking it after breakfast and if I find _anything_ suspicious in there, so help me Merlin, I'll blast it to pieces!"

Fred and George tried to keep their faces inscrutable as they assured their mother she had nothing to worry about and quickly took a seat at the table by Sophie, winking at a smirking Sirius when she turned back to her task.

"Won't find a thing," whispered Fred, grinning.

George matched it perfectly. "Thanks to Sirius and his excellent hiding spot," he added.

When the girls and Ron finally joined them, breakfast was being served and Molly scolded them for taking their time.

"Not our fault, mum," Ron whined, "Ginny took forever in the loo."

Ginny shot her brother a nasty look. "Some of us care what we look like Ron, we don't just roll out of bed and get on with our day."

Fred and George snickered at their little brother's expense.

"That's enough!" Molly hollered, quickly silencing the room. "I don't want to hear any bickering! All of you eat and get up to your rooms. You'll be cleaning them top to bottom today."

The Weasley siblings fidgeted a little and shot each other meaningful looks while Hermione stared hard at her breakfast, refusing to look up. Sophie glanced around the table, locking eyes with Sirius briefly before he looked away, back down at the newspaper.

"Where's Remus this morning?" Molly asked as she placed a final heaping plate of food in the middle of the table and sat down. Her voice was back to normal volume, though her face betrayed her dark mood.

"He's gone," Sirius answered curtly.

"So early?" Molly enquired further, earning her a steely glance. "The mission's not until later."

"Apparently." A hard line at Sirius' jaw appeared.

The tension in the room had suddenly doubled and Sophie sighed inwardly. It was going to be another one of those days.

She decided, as she sipped on her tea, that she would make herself scarce until the meeting later that night.

**8888888**

Remus walked past the shop windows along the slowly busying street. It was still early and the only people out were muggles on their way to work. Remus eyed them enviously, not only for their ignorance of the storm that had already begun but of the daily routine and regular paycheck they enjoyed. He missed both – had for a very long time, since the new laws went into place last summer, robbing him of any decent means of supporting himself and his daughter.

He peered into a shop window, a bright summer dress catching his eye. It was the kind of thing muggle women wore, the latest fashion, short but demure. He thought about the last time he'd been able to buy his daughter a new frock and realized with horror that he hadn't bought her anything – new or otherwise – in the past two years. He regarded his reflection in the spotless shop window, the threadbare clothes he wore making for a shabby reflection and his heart sank a little. It didn't bother him as much that he looked that shabby, but rather that his daughter might look the same.

"See anything you like?"

Remus whirled around to face a smiling Tonks. At least he thought it was Tonks. Her face was angular today, her hair a soft brown-black. She looked older, closer to his and Sirius' age, but the eyes were the same warm brown – her eyes. He was supposed to meet her in half an hour at the coffee shop across the road and was killing time, not having any money to spare on an overpriced cup of java.

"Just looking," he answered, reddening.

Her soft fawn eyes regarded him innocently. "For yourself?" she asked.

_Cheeky_, he thought, not surprised by her ribbing. She was Sirius' cousin, after all. "I thought Sophie might like that one," he informed her, pointing to the dress he'd been eyeing.

She peered into the window. "Nice taste," she said approvingly, "though I'm surprised you'd pick the shortest one. Fathers don't usually like the idea of their daughters showing any skin." She looked back at him and smiled. "'Course with those legs of hers, she could definitely pull it off." There was an unmistakable hint of envy in her voice.

He glanced at her, not knowing what to say. Tonks was rather petite, not quite reaching his shoulders, while Sophie, having grown a few more inches in the last two years, was almost at eye level with him.

His eyes fell on the dress again, its hem skimming the upper thigh on the mannequin, which was tall, pale and thin, just like Sophie. He decided the dress wasn't for her. He definitely didn't want her showing any skin and he doubted she would want to wear anything that threatened to expose her scars. It didn't matter anyway, he reminded himself – it's not like he could afford it.

"We could come back when it opens, if you want," she said, gesturing towards the sign in the door that displayed the hours of operation.

"That's alright," he said, "you're right, it's much too short."

Tonks chuckled heartily. "Now you sound just like my dad," she commented.

_Probably look as old, too_, he thought ruefully. "Well, we _are_ all trained in the art of overprotection," he said, not voicing his self-deprecating thoughts.

They moved away from the shop window and walked across the street, settling at a table in the back of the room. They were supposed to meet Moody in a few hours at an abandoned building just north of London but worried about Sirius following him (as he was capable of being foolhardy enough to try and sneak along) Remus had opted to spend the day away from Headquarters. Tonks, whom he'd spoken to the night before, going over the last minute details, offered to meet him and "hang out," since she had taken an extended weekend from the Ministry and didn't have any other plans that day. Though he'd found it puzzling that Sirius' young cousin would want to "hang out" with him, he accepted, though now, as he sat sipping a cup of coffee he could not afford, he wondered why he'd agreed so easily.

"So, how's Sophie anyway?" Tonks asked after they'd exhausted the usual subjects of small talk.

"She's fine," he answered, realizing he really didn't know if that was true. They'd hardly had a chance to speak for over a week. "She's probably up to her elbows in doxy droppings as we speak," he guessed.

"Helping Molly today, is she?"

He nodded as he took a sip. "I would think so."

They sat in silence for a long, lingering minute until he realized Tonks was waiting for him to broach a subject. He scanned his mind for a safe topic.

"So, do you live close by?"

Tonks sat back and regarded him curiously. He realized it wasn't the thing to ask.

"I do, actually," she answered, smiling, "just up the road." She drained her cup and set it down, looking around the café, which was mostly empty save for the line of customers at the front. "Would you like to see it?" she asked casually.

Remus felt like a heel. She probably thought he'd asked just for that reason. 'No," he blurted quickly, then realized how rude he sounded, "I mean, that's not necessary, we can wait here."

"Well, it's still really early," she said, "we could kill some time at my place, instead of sitting here for the next – " she looked down at her watch, " – three and a quarter hours."

She looked at him earnestly with her big brown eyes and Remus found himself wondering if they really were her natural colour and shape.

"We're bound to have a long, tedious journey with Moody at the helm, anyway," she added, "might as well save our energy."

"If you think so," he answered, relenting. He mentally shook himself as he spoke.

"Great." Tonks stood up and beckoned him to follow her out the back door into the alley. "The quickest, safest route," she said, gesturing to the rubbish-strewn alleyway. She took his hand and tugged his arm gently. "We'll have to do it this way," she explained, "it's the charms."

Remus understood and let her entwine her arm with his. As an Auror, her home would be heavily fortified with spells and charms (hers as well as the Ministry's) to keep intruders out. He assumed the only way in for a dark creature was to be alongside her when they Apparated into the boundaries of the spells. As they Apparated to a back door of an old renovated walkup, Remus felt a strange prickling sensation from the heels of his feet, traveling up his body to the top of his head. He knew what that feeling was. He'd penetrated a powerful spell – an invisible barrier, most likely – and he'd felt the effect of breaking through.

When they entered, Tonks disengaged herself from his arm and he followed her up a flight of stairs. "Here we are," she said when they reached a door. She pulled something out of her pocket and stuck it in the doorknob. He found it rather curious that a witch would even think to use such a useless muggle contraption.

"A key?"

She pushed the door open and gestured for him to go inside. "It's a muggle building," she said, closing the door behind them and locking it, "I need to keep up appearances for the neighbours."

He smiled and nodded, looking around the tiny room. It was light and airy, with splashes of colour – a definite contrast to Black Manor.

"Nice place," he commented.

"Thanks," she said, clearing a mound of papers from off the cream-coloured sofa, "it's a shoebox, but I like it."

Remus took a seat in the living room, which consisted of the sofa, a bookcase, a television, a lamp and two end tables tucked into one corner of the room, the rest of the room taken up by a round dining table, adjacent to the small, open kitchen. It was fairly neat, though the thick layer of dust on the top shelves gave the place a neglected look. Tonks offered him tea, which he accepted just to be polite and they settled onto the sofa.

"So," Tonks began as she handed him a cup, which balanced precariously on a saucer, "how long have you and Sirius known each other?"

"Since first year at Hogwarts," he answered, quickly taking it from her hands (he'd witnessed enough of her clumsy actions to chance her spilling the tea all over his lap), "1971."

Tonks looked impressed. "Wow," she enthused, "that's before I was even born!"

Remus smiled and nodded, feeling older by the minute.

"Then you must have known my parents in school," she went on, taking a large gulp of hot tea.

He felt a little hurt. Andromeda and Ted were much older than him.

"Actually, I met them through Sirius. They were already out of Hogwarts when I got there."

"Uh, huh," she answered absently, dropping another two lumps of sugar into her cup and deftly licking the spoon, just like Sirius used to do. "So that's how you ended up at our Christmas party that time, eh?"

She looked up at him curiously, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he said, returning his attention to his own cup and trying to stifle a smirk. "I was dragged by your cousin. He didn't want me to be alone that Christmas." He didn't know why he'd said it out loud, it wasn't the kind of thing he readily admitted.

"No family?"

"My parents died that year," he told her, feeling suddenly melancholy. He hated to think about how each of them died.

Tonks was suddenly quiet, and placed her cup and saucer on table beside her. "Sorry." She gave him a sympathetic look that turned quickly to confusion. "Wait, wasn't Sophie already born?"

"Yes, actually," he answered, internally groaning. She was about to go into territory he didn't feel terribly comfortable delving into let alone talking about it to a mere acquaintance.

Tonks continued to look at him, her face going from confusion to realization, then sadness and embarrassment. Remus looked away, finishing his tea and wondered how on earth someone who wore her emotions on her ever-changing face could have possibly been picked as an Auror.

"Sorry," she said again, "I didn't mean to pry. It's really none of my business."

Remus wondered what conclusions she'd come to. "No need to apologize," he answered politely, feeling like he should explain but finding a part of him unwilling.

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Tonks suggested they watch some television. Remus, eager for a distraction from the pink hippogriff in the roof, enthusiastically agreed, and she reached for the remote, turned on the telly and settled on a program quickly. They sat watching a documentary on the Royal Family that Remus could have gone his whole life without seeing for the rest of the hour, never speaking again until the program was over.

Around noon, Tonks offered him lunch, which consisted of turkey sandwiches, potato chips and butterbeer. The young woman apologized for the meager meal, sheepishly confessing that she didn't cook and rarely ate at home. Remus, who'd been spoiled lately with Molly's cooking, remembered the meals he'd been eating for a year prior, which consisted of moldy bread and little else at times, and assured her it was more than sufficient. They ate their lunch in silence.

"Do you know Harry Potter well?" she asked suddenly.

Remus was caught a little off guard. "Well," he began, trying to decide what to say, "yes and no." He thought about it before he spoke. "You see, I've known him since he was a newborn, but after James and Lily died," and he thought privately, maybe before that, "I lost contact. He went to live with his aunt and uncle – Lily's sister – and everyone thought it was best that he live as a muggle, away from the magical community until it was time for Hogwarts."

Tonks chewed thoughtfully. "That's so sad," she said, "but it was probably for the best – for him, I mean."

Remus agreed but wasn't sure what she meant and conveyed as much with a look over his sandwich.

"Can you imagine growing up being known as '_The Boy Who Lived'_? That would screw anyone up."

He smiled. "Exactly."

Remus felt like Tonks understood much more about the situation than he gave her credit for and he answered her questions, telling her as much about Harry as he could without revealing anything told to him in confidence. Tonks, forgetting her meal, listened to every detail, as curious about the boy who defeated Voldemort as he figured much of the wizarding world would be. They finished their meal only after he had thoroughly exhausted the topic of _The Boy Who Lived_ and Remus understood more clearly why Tonks had been the first to volunteer to bring Harry back to headquarters.

Afterwards, Tonks suggested they go for a walk, to which he readily agreed, feeling he'd imposed upon her hospitality long enough. She slipped into her bedroom and emerged looking like she had the first time he met her. She wore jeans, a Weird Sisters tee shirt and her face was back to its heart shape. The only difference was her hair, which she kept the soft brown-black, telling him it wouldn't be wise to attract any undue attention while they were out together and she looked more like her usual self. Remus agreed and followed back down to the garden, where, under the cover of a thick-branched tree, they Disapparated to an alley close to the Thames.

He found himself in a familiar spot, walking around with well-suited muggles on their lunch breaks and enjoying the sunshine. Tonks, who was always talkative, went into detail about how she became an Auror (a topic he readily encouraged, intent on keeping the focus off him) until it was time to meet Moody. Then they split up for safety and Disapparated to a prearranged spot where Moody was waiting, a bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye.

"'Bout time," he grumbled, even though they were five minutes early, "I hope you both remembered your training and didn't get followed," he added, referring to Remus' prior Order experience and Tonks' training as an Auror.

"Keep your knickers on, Mad Eye. We practiced '_constant vigilance_', we promise," she teased the old wizard gently, which surprised Remus, as he'd never seen anyone approach Moody like that, much less a young witch.

He couldn't help but be impressed.

"Well, let's get a move on, then," Moody groused, ignoring her comments, "we haven't got all day."

Tonks gave him an exaggerated incredulous look. "What crawled up your trousers, Mad Eye? We've got _loads_ of time."

Moody gave her a scathing look – a look he and his mates had received more than once when they were first in the Order, a look that would reduce the boldest of men to jelly but Tonks just stood there, gazing back at him innocently.

"We're meeting up with the rest of the team along the way," he said, one eye on her and the other on Remus, "then we'll fly to Little Whinging. Doesn't take a minute, you know."

Remus heard the dreaded word and his stomach dropped.

"Fly?" He knew there'd be some flying involved, but he didn't realize that was going to be their only mode of transportation.

Moody set both eyes on him and he felt Tonks doing the same.

"That was a large part of the plan, weren't you listening at the meeting, Lupin?"

Remus thought back to the Order meeting, where Mad Eye had gone into a long-winded speech. Sirius had taken to rolling his eyes and soon he was kicking him under the table every time Moody said a particular word (the word that night being 'boy'), which was a game Sirius invented when they were in school.

"You do fly, don't you?" Tonks asked.

Remus wished Sirius was there so he could ring his neck. "Um, yes, but – "

"But nothing, Lupin, you're getting on a broom and that's _that_."

Moody turned and pulled two brooms out of a small mokesking sack, while Tonks reached into her pocket, pulled out a tiny pouch and extracted her own. Moody propped one by his side and thrust one into Remus' unwilling hands.

"Let's go," he said gruffly, stepping over his and settling down comfortably.

Tonks did the same, and they both turned to watch Remus as he navigated his reluctant limbs over the long, thin handle.

Remus hated to fly and had since first year when he and his class of fellow Gryffindors were led out onto the quidditch pitch, handed a battered school broom and chaos ensued. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he'd fallen off and landed on his head, knocking himself out cold before he ever left the ground, but he didn't look back fondly on his first time on a broom. The humiliation that had followed him for seven years whenever he got near a broom wasn't taken lightly. He loathed the things and preferred risking a splinch rather than being at the mercy of a piece of wood and some twigs. He realized, as Moody stared at him obstinately and Tonks gave him an encouraging smile, he didn't have much choice.

_I am going to kill Sirius for this_, he thought as his broom zoomed into the air and he held on tight. _I just hope I live through the night_.

**8888888**

Sophie lay on her stomach upon the scratchy bedcovering on her four-poster, a book laid open before her. She'd been reading most of the afternoon, hidden away in her room while Molly supervised the others. Sophie had heard the angry, sharp tones, undeniably Molly, through the walls of her room, and she'd heard the groaning of Weasleys as they stomped about, forced to clean their rooms. Sophie listened intently, but heard nothing. Only ten minutes earlier, there had been a ruckus coming from the floor above. She guessed the twins had tried their hand at some magic they weren't familiar with (they were always doing that) but she wondered which of the girls had shrieked. It definitely hadn't been Molly.

Sophie was left to wonder for only a few minutes. There was a knock at the door and Hermione entered the room covered in a film of soot and dust from bushy head to foot. Sophie tried not to laugh at the sight of her, but the younger girl seemed to know she looked ridiculous.

"The twins tried a scourgification spell and it backfired," she explained as Sophie looked at her enquiringly. "Ginny's in the bathroom upstairs, and I was wondering if I could – "

"Sure," Sophie said, cutting her off. "Go ahead, I don't mind."

Hermione thanked her and entered the small bathroom, closing the door behind her. Sophie let out a barely audible snort of laughter, secretly glad she was an Order member and not a student anymore.

"Do you have any shampoo?" Hermione asked from the other side of the door, "I forgot mine."

"It's in the cabinet," Sophie yelled through the door.

"Thanks."

Sophie was about to sit and grab her book once more when it occurred to her that she hadn't specified which cabinet. Oh, shite, she thought. Just as she was about to warn Hermione not to open the cabinet under the sink but over it, Hermione let out a loud, high pitched shriek, then ran out from the bathroom clutching her towel and clean set of clothes to her chest.

"There's a ghoul!" she yelled hysterically.

"Calm down," she assured her, "I know, I was about to tell you…"

Hermione looked at her with incredulity and anger. "You knew?! How long has it been there?"

Sophie shrugged her shoulders and made a noncommittal noise as if to say, '_no idea_' just as Molly burst in followed closely by Ron, the twins and a dripping Ginny, fresh out of the shower.

"What's wrong?! What happened?!" Molly exclaimed, panting like she'd just run a marathon.

"There's a ghoul!" Hermione was hysterical once more, "under the sink!"

Molly approached the bathroom cautiously, her wand held aloft, while the twins laughed and Ron commented, "that's all?" which earned him a scathing look from his friend.

Molly walked out of the bathroom just as Sirius poked his head into the room.

"Everything all right there, Molly?" he asked casually, looking around at the others.

"Apparently there was a ghoul in the bathroom," Molly answered civilly, "but it seems to be gone now."

"Gone?" Hermione looked positively petrified.

Sophie bit her lip, not trusting herself to burst into laughter.

"It'll turn up," Sirius told her reassuringly.

The look Hermione gave him told everyone in the room she was anything but reassured.

"They're harmless anyway," Ron added, "I've got one living in the attic over my room, remember?"

Hermione glowered at him.

"Doubt it'll go up there," Fred commented.

"Buckbeak would have it for lunch," George added.

Hermione continued to look frightened, while Ginny patted her back in comfort. Sophie noticed her biting her lip as well.

"So where will it go?" she asked in a squeaky voice.

"Somewhere dark, like a cupboard," Sirius answered, stepping a little further into the room, "perhaps an empty room, or another bathroom."

Hermione looked aghast.

"Don't worry, dear," Molly assured her, reaching around her daughter and patting her on the shoulder, "we'll find it. It'll be fine."

She ushered her children out of the room, suggesting Hermione finish cleaning up, while Sirius lingered in the doorway.

"Would you like me to check again?" he asked Hermione when everyone left.

Hermione nodded her head vigourously, shaking dust bunnies the size of dragon eggs loose from her hair.

Sirius smiled and entered the bathroom, rooted around loudly and exited a few minutes later. "All clear," he said and stood aside as Hermione walked cautiously in and closed the door behind her. He then turned to Sophie.

"Did you know it was there?"

"Like Ron said, they're harmless."

He studied her for a few seconds before heading back out the door. "Just keep an eye out, you may think they're harmless but Hermione obviously doesn't feel the same."

He strolled back out of the room, and Sophie, not sure what to make of him, went over to the door and shut it firmly. Then she saw it. Laying on the floor behind the door to her room was the letter from Belenus, the same one she'd been convinced she'd left in her room back in Surrey when she'd searched her rucksack and all her things looking for it. Feeling at once angry and deceived, she picked it up and held it close to her nose. There was no scent, not even the lingering scent of the postman or Belenus – nothing. It was the telltale sign that someone had handled it and didn't want to be found out.

Sophie pulled out the letter and sighed as she reread it, realizing it could only be one person.

"Sirius."

* * *

So, what did you think? Let me know. Reviews are nice:)

Coming up, there will be a flashback of sorts in the next chapter (if everything works out), which I realize has been lacking in the last few chapters. There will also be Harry/Sirius and Harry/Sophie interaction...

Next chapter up soon...


	15. Chapter 15: Memories

**A/N:** When I said next chapter coming soon, even _I _didn't realize just how soon. Another chapter that sticks to the preview... wonders never cease.

Thanks for the reviews. Any little bit helps me stay motivated. Keep them coming!

_fireboltcrazed _- I was hoping the RL/NT interaction wasn't too forced.

_Peyton16_ - this is the second time you've mentioned something between Sirius and Sophie... are you trying to give me a hint? Perhaps the readers would like it to happen, but what would Remus think?;)

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue. Pretty please:)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**: Memories

It had been nearly a week since Harry had come to stay at headquarters; nearly a week since Sophie been assigned to guard the prophecy (which surprised both her father and herself), Moody feeling she was ready since she'd handled herself so well when faced with a Death Eater. She'd done it twice so far, sitting alone in the Ministry under a cloak, bored to tears. Being in the Order wasn't quite what she'd been expecting and she thought about that as she made her way to the kitchen from her new room (having switched with Hermione and Ginny to avoid arguments among the siblings over one of the few usable bathrooms in the house).

She was back in the room she had started in, the guest room above the private study, next to Molly and Arthur. She was grateful that Dumbledore had removed most of the memories from the secret room below (taking them back to Hogwarts to examine them at his leisure -- and with Sirius' permission) but found out the first night back in the room that she wasn't as lucky with her next-door neighbours. No matter what silencing charms were placed on the room (and from the muffled sound, she was sure the Weasleys had cast them), she could still make out voices and -- to her dismay -- moans. It was in circumstances like that (though she was hard pressed to think of another quite the same) that she cursed her extraordinary lycan senses. Sometimes she really wished she was just a normal girl.

She tread lightly down the stairs and past the portrait of Sirius' mother. On the way, she spied Kreacher hiding in a corner on the first floor. When she got nearer to where he hid, he scrambled from the shadows with a grumble and a pop.

Since stepping foot in that house, Kreacher had seemed weary of her. Perhaps he sensed that she was different from the rest of them – her father included. She couldn't be sure and she wasn't about to ask the pitiful elf. It was clear from his behaviour he'd gone round the twist long ago.

In the kitchen, she set about getting a glass of water, wishing she'd thought to bring her wand, as she was much too tired from her latest round of guard duty. As she lingered by the kitchen sink, the door was pushed open with a squeak and Harry stumbled in wearing pajamas, his hair sticking up more than usual, his glasses sitting on the end of his nose.

"Oh, hi," he said, looking embarrassed.

Sophie, who was still clad in her thrift store uniform of jeans and a tee shirt (having just gotten in from the Ministry only an hour ago) smiled reassuringly.

"Thirsty?"

He nodded and held his head.

"Are you alright?' she asked, quickly filling a glass of water and bringing it over to the boy.

"It's just a headache."

He sat down at the table and sipped gingerly from the glass. Sophie, sensing his unease, pulled out a chair and sat down beside him, her back to the table.

"Would you like a potion," she asked, "for the pain?"

"That would be brilliant," he breathed, pulling off his glasses and idly rubbing his forehead.

Sophie noticed the way he avoided touching his scar.

"Hold our your hand," she instructed him and he gave her an inquisitive look before he did as she asked. Sophie, having perfected the summoning of potions over the last few years, cupped her hands over his and when she moved them, a tiny bottle of _Pound-No-More Headache Remedy_ appeared in his palm.

"How did you do that?" he asked, awed.

"It's simple, really. Just a Summoning Charm mixed with a bit of transfiguration and a touch of wandless magic. I could teach you in a cinch."

He looked at her with new respect in his eyes.

"Better drink up," she urged.

He gulped down the potion, then laid his forehead against his arm on the table in front of him.

Sophie sat quietly with him for a minute, allowing the potion to take full effect then softly inquired if he was feeling better. He lifted his head and nodded.

"Loads," he whispered, "thanks." He sat up and placed his glasses back on his face.

Up close, Sophie was taken in by his eyes, which sparkled a brilliant emerald green. They twinkled in the soft light of the candles overhead, reflecting in the lenses of his round frames. She was reminded of the comments made by other Order members about how his eyes reminded them of Lily. She decided they really were very pretty eyes.

Sophie realized she was staring and immediately looked away. Harry's face was red, and he fidgeted nervously in his seat.

"You should probably get back to your room," she said, moving out of the chair and pushing it back under the table, "if Molly finds you missing from your bed, she'll go mad."

Harry moved slowly, the chair scraping noisily against the floor as he pushed it back to get up. She watched him as he hesitated, half standing and half sitting at the table.

"Can I ask you something?"

Sophie walked back towards the table and Harry sat down.

"Sure," she answered, trying not to sound apprehensive. She had no idea what he could want and was more than a little curious. She just hoped it wasn't a question about the Order.

"Being, um, what you are," he began rather timidly, "do you, uh, can you – " he sighed deeply and went on, "can you sense other, uh, dark creatures around you?"

She wondered why he wanted to know. "I can, yes," she answered cautiously.

"Is it just other werewolves or – "

"It's anything, really." She pulled out the chair she'd been sitting in and settled into it swiftly. "It's not just creatures, either. It's…" she struggled to put it into words, sensing that it was important to him, "well, it _is_ creatures, like vampires or ghouls… or mad little house elves."

Harry let out a short, breathy laugh.

"But it's more than that," she went on, "I sense the darkness inside them more than anything else. With werewolves, it's different. I am one, I can smell one a mile away, but with other creatures it's… just a… _feeling_ I get."

Harry looked at her, his green eyes betraying fear. "Can you feel it in humans, too?"

Sophie suddenly understood. He was asking about himself.

"I can," she whispered, "it's happened before." She thought about Tristan Cates and the uneasy feeling she had gotten from him, how she ignored it, how she knew better now. "But I don't get the feeling from anyone in the house, if that's what you're asking."

Harry's eyes widened. "I wasn't – " he began lamely.

She decided subtlety was probably the best approach with Harry. "If I'd felt that kind of darkness in someone here, believe me, I'd tell you."

"You would?"

"We are practically family after all," she assured him, smiling.

Harry gave a half-hearted smile, but Sophie wasn't fooled. Though she'd tried to comfort him, she doubted her words had done their job. Harry took a sip of water, his hands fumbling around the glass while Sophie stared at the dwindling fire across the room in the fireplace, wondering just what had prompted him to ask such a question.

She knew he must be worried, with his hearing only two days away and she figured the threat of being expelled from Hogwarts, something she herself had lived through, was bound to be eating away at his confidence. She had the sudden urge to hug him reassuringly, tell him that there was nothing wrong with him, that he was fine -- everything would work out -- but she didn't. She wasn't sure where these feelings were coming from, but they took her by surprise.

As she sat in silent bewilderment, the kitchen door squeaked open once more, making both of them jump, and Sirius walked in, an empty glass in his hand.

"What's going on?" he asked as his eyes roamed over them alone at the table.

"Nothing," Harry answered a little too quickly, "just getting some water." He held up his glass as evidence and shot Sophie a pleading look.

Sirius' grey eyes went directly to her and he looked at her enquiringly.

"Actually," Sophie answered, "we were talking about _you_."

"Were you?" he asked, sounding dubious.

Harry didn't answer and instead took another sip of water.

"What about?"

"That's between _us,_" she taunted, smirking.

She found she liked the idea of making him wonder. _Serves him right_, she thought viciously, _for being so bloody nosy in the first place_.

Sirius looked to Harry for confirmation but the young man jumped up suddenly, claiming he was very tired and announced that he was going back up to bed. Sirius called after him but he disappeared quickly out the kitchen door and up the stairs.

"So what were you really talking about?" Sirius asked, turning to interrogate her.

"Like I said, it's between Harry and I," she responded, irked by his demanding tone.

"He's my godson, if there's something wrong – "

" – I'll write it down and you can sneak into my room and read it," she finished for him.

She hadn't planned on confronting him about the letter but the words just tumbled out.

Sirius stood there, looking stunned before he composed his face to convey surprise and what Sophie thought might be innocence. The latter didn't work on his newly emerging chiseled features.

"What does that mean?" he challenged.

She really didn't want to have this conversation. She'd lost her taste for confrontations two years ago (not that she'd ever been one for a fight), knowing from experience they would only lead to something bad.

"Nothing," she answered, picking up Harry's glass and taking it to the kitchen sink.

To her dismay, Sirius followed closely behind.

"Just say what you mean, would you?" He sounded annoyed.

Sophie washed and rinsed the glass, taking her time at the sink before she turned around to face him. The stormy look in his eyes was back, the large dark pupils telling her he was also slightly inebriated. _Great_, she thought, _that's just what I need – a moody, drunken Sirius Black_.

"Well? Out with it, Sophie!"

She didn't like the way he said her name, like it was at once familiar to him and distasteful all at the same time. It was at times like these that she could see the resemblance between the man before her and the nasty woman in the painting one floor above.

"I know you read my letter," she said, figuring it was best to get it out (and figuring she probably didn't have a choice).

Sirius huffed indignantly for a moment and opened his mouth to speak before he let out a sigh, raked his hands through his hair and began to pace. "I'm sorry about that," he said, eyes on the floor, "I found it on the stairs the night you dropped your rucksack. I probably should've given it to you that night but I… I kept it." He stopped and looked up at her briefly. "I felt badly, so I left it in your room that day, hoping you'd think you dropped it or something," he finished. The way he looked gave the illusion of a deeply repentant man.

Sophie didn't know what to say. She'd been angry when she'd first discovered the letter but had resigned herself to pretending it hadn't happened. It was easier than making a fuss. She also hadn't even considered that Sirius would apologize let alone admit what he'd done. She had to admit, he constantly surprised her. Considering all that had happened lately, she found she wasn't as angry as she should be at having her privacy intruded. But she didn't want _him_ to know that.

"Just don't let it happen again."

Sirius smirked and the illusion was gone. "You sound just like Moony."

"So you've done this to him as well?"

His smirk widened. "A few times."

"Of course you have," she said under her breath. Something told her the young Sirius Black always did what he wanted.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Well, I'm knackered, so…" She moved around the island and towards the stairs.

"Right," he said, turning to watch her leave.

As she reached the door, he called out to her. "So, should I give your father my congratulations?" he asked.

She stopped and gave him a confused look.

"Gaining a son-in-law and all that."

Sophie realized what he meant. He was referring to Belenus' letter.

"Not unless my mate decides he fancies girls," she quipped.

"Your friend is a pouf?"

"He's _gay_, yes," she corrected, feeling a little insulted by the word, even though she had used it herself more than once.

"Does Moony know?"

"Does he need to?"

Sirius looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose not."

It was her turn to smirk.

"What?" he said, suddenly defensive, "I don't have the right to worry about my best mate's daughter?"

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Yes."

"Oh, 'cause I thought you were just being a busybody."

"Very _droll_, _Miss Lupin_," he said in a mock haughty tone. It was eerie how alike he sounded to her most loathed former professor.

Sophie snickered and shook her head.

"You shouldn't waste your energy worrying about me," she said, deciding to voice her opinion on matters, "not when Harry needs you more."

Sirius' expression changed and his visage clouded over with worry. "Is he alright? He's worried about the hearing, isn't he?"

They both drifted back to the table until they were standing a few chairs away from each other.

"I'm not sure," she said truthfully, "I suppose he must be, but I think he's confused, feeling alone in the world."

"He has me!" he replied, wounded.

Sophie sighed. "You know it's not the same." She didn't want to betray any confidence and searched for the words to convey what he needed to know. "I just think he needs reassurance, you know, that he's not… that he belongs."

Sirius regarded her with confusion in his eyes, his deeply lined forehead scrunched up in concentration.

"You're right," he said, seeming to decide something. "Thanks."

He walked past her and left the kitchen abruptly, leaving her standing alone by the table, wondering what he would do next.

**8888888**

The next night Sirius waited for everyone to settle into bed before he was making his way down the corridor to Harry's room on a mission. He'd thought about Sophie's words the night before all through the day and had come to the conclusion that Harry needed to feel a connection to the people that mattered most – Lily and James.

He'd spent the better part of the evening recalling happy memories of his best mate and his best mate's wife, searching his mind for the perfect memories to show their son. He knew that Dumbledore would probably disapprove of the idea and Remus would agree with the Headmaster, so he kept what he'd planned to himself. Sirius knew Remus wouldn't be a problem. He'd been in and out of Headquarters all week and was looking ragged. Once he was asleep, nothing would wake the lycan from his bed. The only other obstacle he foresaw was Molly, who insisted on prowling the house at night to check on the children. He hoped she wouldn't find Harry missing from his bed and come looking for him.

Sirius approached the door and opened it cautiously, remembering how the hinges groaned. He padded lightly towards Harry's bed, glancing over his shoulder to check that Ron was sleeping, and lightly jostled him by the shoulder.

Harry opened his eyes instantly, as if he hadn't really been sleeping and he looked at Sirius with confusion.

"Come with me," he whispered, "I've got a surprise for you."

Harry moved his limbs awkwardly from the bed and stumbled from the room, tripping over his feet as he followed Sirius down the corridor and towards the stairs.

Sirius stifled a laugh, instantly reminded of his late night exploits with James, and it gave him an desolate feeling. He shook it off and beckoned him on, cautioning him to keep quiet.

They made their way down to his father's private study, a room no one frequented. Dumbledore had decided it was best to keep the others from knowing about the secrets the room held. Sirius had agreed mostly because he didn't want people asking questions or giving him the look people gave him when they discovered another dark and dangerous item in the house. It was something like pity, with a little bit of repulsion thrown in. He'd seen it so many times on Molly and the children's faces recently, he'd come to hate that look.

When they entered the room, Harry's sleepy eyes immediately settled on the portrait hanging above the mantle, and he studied it with interest. Sirius knew he was full of questions but was grateful that his godson was a young man of few words.

"What I'm about to show you is something you mustn't tell anyone about," he warned Harry.

Harry agreed apprehensively. Looking a little frightened, he followed Sirius into the room behind the bookcase, and Sirius instructed him not to touch anything then called him to the middle of the room, where his father's rune-carved pensieve sat on its pedestal.

"Do you know what this is?"

"A pensieve," he answered, "I've – I've seen one in Dumbledore's office."

"Do you know what's it for?"

He eyed the stone-carved vessel nervously. "Memories."

"Have you ever used one?" Sirius asked. He got the feeling from the way Harry looked at it that he had – and it hadn't been a good experience.

Harry nodded and swallowed loudly, telling Sirius he was right.

"I wanted to show you your parents," he began, smiling anxiously, "so you could really see them, you know, connect with your past."

Harry only looked more nervous. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Sirius was taken aback by the question. He wanted to please Harry, give him a little bit of his parents back but he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle seeing his own memories of James before him with his doppelganger son by his side. He realized that maybe Harry must have been feeling a similar sort of trepidation.

"Only if you want to, Harry," he answered. He didn't want to push the boy.

Harry seemed to consider what he was being offered and after a moment of thoughtful silence, agreed.

"I have to warn you, though," Sirius went on, feeling he needed to say it, "these are just memories, my memories -- they might not be completely coherent." He didn't want to explain about how he'd tried to forget them for twelve years but Harry seemed to understand.

"That's okay, I want to see them. They don't have to be perfect, just something, you know."

_Anything_, he seemed to say. It unsettled Sirius how right Sophie had been. She definitely had Remus' insight.

Sirius composed his thoughts and brought his borrowed wand up to his temple. He muttered the spell under his breath and began to pull out a silvery strand of thought. It was difficult for him to concentrate with Harry looking at him from across the pensieve, the shimmer from the memory he was extracting casting a glow on the boy's face. In that light, it was as if the James he'd known was standing there. It flustered him and he lost his train of thought for a moment before focusing back on the happy memory. Finally pulling it free from its vault, he gently dropped it into the pensieve, tapping it lightly. It immediately began to shift and ripple.

"Ready?" he asked, locking eyes with Harry.

Harry's eyes were wide behind the dark-rimmed frames. "Ready," he whispered, his voice sounding tight, anxious.

Sirius placed a hand on his godson's shoulder and tilted his head into the basin. He felt a pull and then the sensation of falling through air before his feet hit the ground, or rather, the sterile white floor of St. Mungo's.

"Where are we?"

Pale blue walls reared up around him and Sirius was startled for a moment before he realized that he had Harry, clutched by the shoulder, by his side.

"It's the maternity ward in St. Mungo's," he answered just as a Healer walked by with a crying baby in her arms.

"The day I was born?" Harry asked, stunned.

Sirius nodded, suddenly unable to speak. He and James were rounding the corner, faces full of glee.

"Which room did they say?" James asked, out of breath.

They'd just run through the corridors and up the stairs from the entrance, after receiving a floo from Lily's friend Alice at Headquarters, informing James that she was in labour.

Sirius watched his younger self scan the little plaques on the walls. "There!" he yelled, pointing to a room where Sirius and Harry stood by the door.

He walked towards them and Sirius was so shocked by the sight of his former self up close he almost forgot what was about to happen. He pulled himself out of his stupor just in time to cover Harry's eyes as his younger self pushed the door open and was greeted by shrieks and wails.

"Sirius Black! Get out! Get out!!"

The door closed and Sirius removed his hand. "Sorry about that," he said embarrassed, "I almost forgot what a git I was."

Sirius had gotten an eyeful of Lily during labour but he didn't think Harry needed to see that.

Harry didn't answer or even seem to realize he was there – he was too busy staring at his father, who was now pulling at his disheveled mane and biting his lip.

"What did you see?" he asked anxiously. "Padfoot? Tell me!"

Sirius shook his head and groaned internally. He remembered this part too well.

"Merlin, Prongs, it was horrible!" he exclaimed. "There was blood and goo everywhere!"

James looked outraged and frightened.

"Don't tell me that!" he bellowed. He received some scandalized looks from passersby and was shushed by a Healer making rounds.

"I'm sorry mate, but it's true!"

"Blimey, Sirius, I'm about to be a father here. A little support would be nice!"

Young Sirius considered his friend's words. "I'm sorry, Prongs. You're right. It wasn't horrible. It was lovely. That wife of yours has quite a set – "

"Oi! Watch it!"

" – of _lungs_ on her. Geez, Prongs, I didn't see all that!"

James paced nervously, followed closely by young Sirius. Sirius watched himself and his best friend and was awed by how closely they matched each other's steps, as if their limbs were attached by invisible thread. When one moved his left leg the other's left leg followed, when James turned abruptly, pivoting on his heel, young Sirius did the same. It was strange to watch his former self, let alone watch the strange dance of synchronicity that he and James had perfected.

"Should I go in?"

"No! Definitely not!"

James gave him a look.

"I mean, you wouldn't want to ruin the moment, would you? Besides I don't think Lily would enjoy your company at the moment, as _in love_ as she is with you, mate. She seems kind of busy right now giving birth to your child."

He elicited a wild burst of laughter from his nervous pal as the door opened and a Healer poked her head out the door.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked, looking around the corridor.

James scrambled towards her.

"Are you ready to meet your son?"

The Healer was beaming kindly at him and Sirius got a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched his former self and James walk into the room and James laid his eyes on his son for the first time. Sirius heard a small gasp emit from Harry as he followed and laid eyes on his mother, who was propped up on a hospital bed, looking impossibly beautiful. She held her newborn son in her arms, and her long red hair cascaded around her shoulders like a fiery halo. She looked tired but she was beaming and there was so much love in her bright green eyes. The thought that had occurred to Sirius at that moment in the past came to him again and he had to fight back tears that threatened to fall on his lined face as they did on the fine, young visage from his memory.

Breath left his lungs and he turned to look away, while Harry stepped closer to get a better look at the picture of happiness before him. Sirius had feared this, knew that he was still too weak to indulge in these memories. The mixed emotions threatened to overwhelm him and he was concentrating on breathing when the memory began to fade around him.

Harry quickly came over to him, pulling on his arm in question but Sirius didn't know what had happened. Then, as the walls of St. Mungo's dissolved and new ones appeared, he realized what was going on.

"We need to get out," he told Harry, grabbing him a little roughly by the arm in his haste to leave the pensieve. But it was too late.

Sirius and Harry suddenly found themselves standing in a dimly lit, richly decorated room. Harry gave him a questioning look as the younger Sirius appeared before them. He was alone, dressed casually in muggle attire, waiting impatiently for someone. He was younger than in the last memory by only a few years, but the difference to the older man's eyes was colossal.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Sirius didn't want Harry to see this but Harry wasn't budging. "I'm sorry," he breathed, feeling spent, "This isn't… I don't know what happened…"

He was saved the trouble of explaining himself when a dark haired girl walked into the room and fixed his former self with a look of deepest loathing.

"What do you want, Black?" she demanded rudely, "Why are here, in _my _home?"

Harry stepped away from Sirius and watched the scene before him with curiousity.

"I wanted a word," the younger Sirius answered curtly.

Sirius made a half-hearted attempt to pull Harry away, but his eyes were glued to Eris Sloane.

"Why the hell would I want to speak to you?" she countered.

Young Sirius gave her a scathing look and flipped his shaggy, dark mane. "Believe me," he said, his voice matching the look on his face, "I want to be here as much as you want me here, but we needed to get some things straight."

"I have nothing to say to you." She turned and began to walk away.

"He told me," he blurted out. "Remus told me everything."

She paused at the mention of Remus' name and turned back slowly, her recently round face masked with indifference. It hit Sirius as he watched that she looked different. She had been about seven months pregnant at that point, but her baby bump was cleverly hidden. Her face, though, was wider, and if he'd paid attention, he would have realized something was off about the way she moved. _Merlin_, he thought, _I should have realized_.

"What do you want?"

"I want you and your family to keep what you know about Remus to yourself."

"Or what?" she challenged.

An ugly look spread across his face, his grey eyes smoldering as he fixed her with his most intimidating look. "Or you'll wish you were the one destroyed by the Ministry, not your brother."

Eris paled at the mention of her younger brother, who had died when she was younger. Sirius caught sight of Harry from the corner of his eye, a look of concentration on his face as he put two and two together.

"Is that Sophie's mother?" he asked, his voice unnecessarily hushed.

Sirius throat was dry. "Yes," he croaked, feeling his throat constricting around the word. Before he could say anymore, Eris began her tirade.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Black, coming here and threatening my family! You've always tried to distance yourself from your own, yet here you are, throwing your weight around, just like your parents!"

"Don't change the subject – "

" – the subject! Oh, yes, _Remus_. Right," she went on sarcastically. "Imagine what _your_ parents would do if they knew one of your closest friends was a dirty dark creature!"

"If you say a word to anyone, I'll – "

"— you'll what?! Tell everyone that I turned my own brother in after he was bitten by a werewolf, tell people that I had my brother killed!" She was yelling now, her eyes alight with fury, her arms gesticulating wildly. "You'll destroy mylife?! Well, too late, Black, your mate already did that for me!"

Sirius remembered being stunned to silence at the accusation towards his mate, and wondering just what she meant before deciding to inflict some pain on Remus' ex-girlfriend, in the name of keeping Moony safe. He wished, as he stood watching himself with his godson beside him, that he'd taken the time to consider what he was about to do. He was filled with shame and desperately wanted to get Harry out so he wouldn't have to witness it.

As his younger self stalked up to Eris and grabbed her by the throat, a hand suddenly pulled Harry back – a long-fingered, scarred hand. He watched as Harry seemed to float up to the ceiling and he suddenly vanished. Sirius, confused and stunned, turned back to himself and Eris.

"You think your life's got to shit now, Sloane? Open your mouth about Remus, tell his secret, and watch what happens. I can make your life, your family's life, a living Hades with what I know. Not just about your brother, either. There are things your parents wouldn't want getting out."

He released her and her hand came up, slapping him hard across the face. Sirius winced, remembering how it smarted, when he suddenly felt a presence behind him. He turned his head but he already knew who it was – Remus.

"Don't you _dare _try that with me! I know about your parents as well, all the things they've done in the name of being a Black. They're sick!"

"I agree," he said, matter of fact, "but I don't care who knows what they've done. _You_ on the other hand…"

"You don't know anything!"

"I know about your father's affairs, I know your mother found '_comfort_' in my father's arms," he sneered, as Eris' eyes went wide in disbelief. "What, you don't believe me?" He seemed to be enjoying himself now. "Tell your mother she should really consider removing that mole on the small of her back, looks ten times bigger when she's writhing around in the photographs."

Eris stood speechless, her body visibly trembling and her eyes welling up with tears. "Get out!" she whispered, stifling a sob.

"Only when I'm sure you'll keep your mouth shut about Remus."

A sob escaped her lips and she looked on the verge of collapse.

"Do you think _I_ want – my _family_ wants – people to know that I was in… that I was involved with a werewolf?"

_Was she about to say love?_ he wondered, aware of Remus shifting behind him.

"I just want you to leave." She sounded despondent, wrecked – exactly how he'd wanted leave her.

"I have your word?"

Tears were liberally streaking her face. "Yes," she breathed grudgingly.

Sirius pulled out his wand. "Care to make it official?"

Eris allowed Sirius to take her hand and clasp it with his. He spoke the words of a solemn oath that she would never reveal Remus' secret. She repeated the words through sobs and tears and tried to pull her hand away.

"Wait," his younger self instructed, "we need to make it stick." Without turning his head, he called out a name. "Peter."

Peter emerged from the shadows and Eris' eyes went wide in shock. "What – ?"

Sirius felt sick and disgusted with himself as Remus let out a sharp breath.

"Tell me you didn't…" he trailed as Peter approached young Sirius and Eris and tapped his wand to their clasped hands. A thin fiery light coiled around their hands as he invoked a few words and the spell was complete.

"Get me out here," he said suddenly, feeling the urgent need to be out of the pensieve, away from this memory, away from his shame.

He felt Remus' rough, bony hands wrap around his shoulders and the next thing he knew, he was floating. Then his body hit the ground with a thud.

* * *

I really enjoyed writing the scene between Sirius and Eris... hate is so much more interesting to imagine... maybe that's just me...

The next chapter continues where this one left off (I refuse to call it a cliff-hanger) -- sort of. You'll see...

Next chapter coming soon, though probably not as soon as this one :( I have a life after all... who am I kidding?...;p


	16. Chapter 16: Language

**A/N:** This is definitely a transitional chapter, though I think it answers some questions (waves to _fireboltcrazed_) as well as brings up new ones (smiles sheepishly), but sadly, not much Harry this time (sorry, _Blacksleeves)_.'Tis short but hopefully sweet. Let me know ;)

**Warning**: language... and a sarcastic Remus. You've been warned;P

**Disclaimer**: If I was JK Rowling, this story would be a whole lot better...

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**: Language

_The language of friendship is not words but meanings_. – Henry David Thoreau

Remus was knocked to the floor as Sirius' bony frame pulled him down and hit the floor with a thud. Harry rushed over to them as Remus clambered to his feet and offered Sirius a hand, which he took only after staring at it for a moment in disbelief.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, his eyes wide and searching. He looked upset but was outwardly calm and Remus wondered just what he'd seen.

"We're fine," he answered for both he and Sirius, though locking eyes his oldest friend a second later, he realized Padfoot was anything but fine.

Harry seemed to notice as well and his young face was overwhelmed with worry.

"Are – are you sure?"

Sirius glanced at his godson with doleful eyes. "I'm sorry," he croaked, "I ruined it for you."

"It's okay, Sirius," Harry whispered soothingly (it amazed Remus that he was capable of such understanding after _Merlin knows_ what he'd seen), "You didn't ruin it. I got to see my parents. I saw how much they loved me."

Remus imagined that Sirius' intentions for this fiasco had been noble, but he couldn't help but feel anger slowly building towards his mate.

"Perhaps you should go back to bed," he suggested firmly, "we'll talk in the morning."

Harry glanced at Sirius and he nodded, seeming to understand that his godfather needed Remus' attention at the moment. He departed but not before he thanked his godfather and bid him goodnight.

His words only seemed to make Sirius more miserable and Remus felt a pang of compassion for his friend for a moment before the image of Peter, Sirius and Eris came back to him and drove away the sentiment.

_What the fuck were you thinking, Sirius?_ he wanted to yell. _Why did you do it? Why Peter?_ He wanted to shake him, thump him hard on the nose, not only for going to such extremes for _his_ safety (and involving the one person who had betrayed them all) but for taking Harry into the pensieve to show him his disjointed thoughts.

Had Sirius come to him first, Remus would have reminded him that his memories had only been recently pulled off the shelves and dusted off, and that after years of hiding them away, he'd need to unravel them slowly, with care, so that each memory could survive intact, disentangled from the next. Had he come to him all those years ago and told him that he planned to secure Eris' silence in _that_ way, Remus would have stopped him by reminding him that it was exactly the kind of thing his parents would do.

Remus wanted to do and say all of these things but seeing Sirius looking so wretched and forlorn – _broken_ – he couldn't do it.

"Come on," he said instead, extending a hand to rest on his shoulder, "you should get some rest as well, I'll take care of things down here."

Sirius didn't say anything but allowed Remus to nudge him towards the door. Without another word, he watched as Sirius left the room and his slumped form disappeared up the stairs into the darkness above. Then Remus, bracing himself for what he knew he had to do, closed the study door and locked it, then slowly made his way back into the secret room where the pensieve stood glowing silver upon the pedestal, waiting for him to dive in and relive the past.

**8888888**

Sophie noticed it immediately, the heavy feeling in the air that seemed to have settled around her father, Sirius, and Harry very suddenly. She figured it was to do with the hearing but afterwards, when Harry was cleared of all charges and his future as a Hogwarts student was certain once more, the heaviness clung to them like the smell of a cheap cigar, permeating everything around them. She wasn't the only one. Others noticed, too.

Tonks brought it up one day as they sat in the kitchen peeling carrots by hand, "like my grandma Tonks used to do," she said, while Molly busied herself with the rest of the meal at the kitchen counter.

"So what's going on with my cousin and your father?" she whispered discreetly over a mound of chopped carrots.

"No idea."

Tonks studied her and seemed to decide she was telling the truth. "Well, it must be bad, they hardly speak and Sirius has been getting loaded every night this week." She said this in an even softer tone, aware that Molly was very vocal about her disapproval of Sirius' recent behaviour.

Sophie didn't respond but Tonks' words made her think. What _had_ happened between them? she wondered. Did it have to do with Harry, who Sirius had been avoiding since his victory over the Ministry? Did it have to do with something else? The whole situation was odd and Sophie got the feeling that, as usual, she was missing a vital piece of information. She just wasn't sure it was really her business to know.

Tonks, having quickly exhausted the subject, turned to another question, which caught Sophie a little by surprise.

"So what's going on with you and Bill?" she asked as soon as Molly turned her attention to the pot of stew boiling over the fire.

"What do you mean?" she responded, watching as the knife blade missed Tonks thumb.

"Well it seems like you two have become fast friends," she whispered, smiling brightly, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"So have you and I," she said, feeling a bit strange saying it aloud.

"True," Tonks answered, "but he's _Bill_."

_No kidding_, she thought wryly. "And?"

Tonks regarded her with amusement. "You really don't know?"

Sophie was getting quickly annoyed and she had the feeling Molly was listening. "Know what?"

"He was the biggest catch in Hogwarts. Still is, too."

Sophie turned her attention back to the carrots, hoping Tonks would do the same. "Before my time," she shrugged, nonchalant.

The truth was Sophie was interested, in a way that any young woman would be interested in a fit, slightly older man, with an earring, long hair and a tattoo, but she knew it would never go beyond admiration, and she was fine with that.

"So you're _not_ interested?" Tonks urged.

"He's a nice bloke, but that's it," she answered, keeping her voice low so that Molly had to strain to hear them, "besides, he's seeing someone at work. A French girl."

"He used to see _loads_ of girls," she smirked, "had a reputation with the ladies to rival Sirius'. _Merlin_, there were stories," she went on, oblivious to Molly's blatant eavesdropping. "Not as juicy as the ones about Sirius, though."

"Juicy?" Sophie repeated, curious. She'd heard a few whispers throughout the Order about his past but had never really heard any salacious details. She had to admit, she was curious.

"I'll fill you in later," Tonks promised, finally noticing Molly.

They worked in companionable silence until Molly left the kitchen in search of her children.

"I suppose Fred will be pleased," Tonks said as soon as she left, "being head over heels with you and all."

Again Sophie was taken by surprise. "He's not – "

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed?" she said, incredulous. "The way he looks at you – it's obvious." She flashed a bright smile. "Kind of sweet, too."

Sophie was saved from responding as Fred, George and Ron entered the kitchen grumbling about how unfair it was that the girls didn't have to help set up for dinner.

They greeted them and Tonks and the twins quickly fell into a conversation about the best locomotor spells and how to cast them. Sophie, having moved to the counter to help Molly with dessert, felt Fred's eyes follow her and she looked up to catch him staring at her with a faraway look in his eyes. He smiled and quickly looked away, turning his attention back to Tonks and his brothers, and though she'd had an inkling, Sophie realized Tonks was right.

"You alright, dear?" Molly stood beside her, rolling out a piece of dough.

Sophie smiled down at the shorter woman, who was regarding her with kind, curious eyes that reminded her of the twins.

"I'm fine," she answered without any real conviction as she sliced an apple. _Just a bloody idiot, that's all_, she thought depracatingly.

Molly smiled back and continued to roll the dough with her wand pointed at the rolling pin while it moved around and smoothed it out expertly.

"So, tell me, dear," she said, her voice going lower, "what do you know about this French girl?"

Sophie had to stifle a laugh. She _knew_ Molly had been listening.

"Not much. Sorry."

Molly shook her head. "I suppose it's too much to ask that my children tell me anything about their lives," she said, sounding disappointed.

Sophie offered words of comfort, assuring Molly that when the time was right, Bill would bring the girl round, and soon after left the kitchen. She couldn't help but feel envious of the Weasleys. They had everything she could ever want – two loving parents and siblings to share all of life's joys and disappointments with. They had everything she would never have, couldn't dream of having – family.

But at least, she thought, she had her father. That was more than she could ever ask for – more than she deserved.

And she had Fred, she remembered, who was not-so-secretly in love with her, even though it was the last thing she wanted. 

_Oh, shite_, she thought as she went in search of refuge from the rest of the people in the house, _that's just what I need – more complications in my life._

**8888888**

It took more than a week for Remus to work up the nerve (or rather, steel himself) to confront Sirius. His old friend hadn't made it easy, brooding and drowning in firewhiskey (or whatever else he could coerce Tonks into sneaking him) and falling into a downward spiral of shame and depression. Harry's constant presence in the house did little to help and Remus found it maddening that the man who'd been so vocal about having Harry under his roof was now ignoring the boy. It didn't help that Harry was now definitely going back to Hogwarts come September. Remus knew his oft-selfish mate well enough to know that a part of him had been looking forward to hiding out with Harry for the rest of the year (or however long it took to clear his name) at headquarters and that part of him was clearly disappointed. He also knew Sirius well enough to know that the guilt he felt over feeling that way, as well as the guilt he had over the pensieve incident was currently eating away at him and pulling him deeper into his spiral of shame.

After mulling over everything, searching for the right words and taking the time to let the anger ebb away so that his emotions didn't get the better of him, Remus finally found the chance to say what he needed one quiet afternoon as they sat doing research in the little-used library on the main floor.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Sirius?" The first words that had come to him that night poured out of him without his knowledge, taking him by surprise.

Sirius' shoulders seemed to sag as he looked up from a dusty tome he'd been staring at for the last half hour. "I don't know what…" He paused. "That's a lie. I knew _exactly_ what I was doing then… I thought I knew what I was doing now…" His voice died away as he stared ahead, his eyes unfocused.

Remus sagged against the fine leather chair, feeling his conviction already slipping away.

"I'm sorry, mate," Sirius mumbled. "I know I fucked up – _twice_ – but I can't take any of it back."

Remus wanted to argue that he had in fact fucked up more times than he could count, but didn't think that would be very conducive to the conversation.

"Harry's fine," he said instead. He wanted to soothe Sirius' fears about his godson. "I don't think you scarred him for life." He winced at his poor choice of words as Sirius shot him a reproachful look. "You know what I mean," he corrected.

"What did he say?"

"Well – " _You would know_, came the internal reply, _if you'd just talk to him_. "He's grateful that he was able to see James and Lily like that," he said referring to their utter joy in the memory, "but he had a lot of questions about… about the other thing."

_Can't even say it, can you Remus?_ a tiny voice inside him chastised._ Pussy_.

"I hope you know why I did what I did – " Sirius began.

"I know." Remus didn't need an explanation. He knew the minute he saw the memory that Sirius' only motivation was to keep him safe. But it still chafed him that Peter had been involved.

The silence that followed was palpable.

"Merlin, Remus," Sirius said into the heavy silence a moment later, "He knows all our secrets, doesn't he? He knows exactly where to hit us, each of us… Harry."

"Yeah," he agreed, "he does." He wasn't sure if he was referring to Peter or Voldemort, but he supposed it didn't matter. Either way, it was true.

"Fuck, Moony, I'm sorry, I did it to protect you, I wasn't going to let them do to you what they did to their own son, what she did to her brother. I couldn't – "

"I know, Padfoot, I _know_." He sighed. "But you shouldn't have done it."

Sirius got slowly to his feet. "I know."

He began to pace languidly across the room, head down and brow furrowed, deep in thought.

"Did you notice?" he said stopping momentarily.

Remus wasn't sure what he meant.

"You didn't see it, did you? The glow, the strange glow?"

Remus was completely lost and began to worry that Sirius had finally gone mad.

"Did you go back and look at it again?"

Remus nodded. He'd watched each memory over and over, studying each person until he'd memorized each reaction, expression and smile on James and Lily's faces and had every anguished look on Eris' face seared into his brain.

"How I couldn't get my hand around her throat?"

Remus distinctly remembered how Sirius' hand seemed to make the motion of settling around her throat without actually touching her. As he had watched, he thought his friend was just trying to intimidate her. He now realized Sirius hadn't done it on purpose.

"You never touched her." A tiny shiver went down up his spine.

Sirius shook his head. "No, and _Peter_," he went on, the name coming out like a curse word, "he didn't get that close, like he couldn't."

They looked at each other, each divining the other's thoughts.

"A protection spell," Remus said, thinking out loud and Sirius immediately agreed.

"It's old magic," he told him, "_dark_ magic."

Remus couldn't wrap his mind around the conclusion they were coming to, even though, considering she was a Sloane, he shouldn't have been surprised. "Who would do it?" he asked, his mind reeling.

They both searched their minds for an answer.

"Maybe no one cast it," Sirius answered, his voice more even, more like himself, "maybe – " he cast an awkward glance at Remus and continued, "maybe it was to do with the curse –_ your_ curse. Sophie's."

"What do you mean?" he asked, though he thought he understood. He just couldn't believe it.

"She was carrying a lycanthrope, the first werewolf born to a witch in over a century. It's possible there's more to the curse than we know."

Remus had considered, years ago, that the curse might work differently on his daughter – he'd seen enough evidence to support his theory over the years but he just couldn't believe that a curse designed to torture the recipient for the rest of their lives would protect the life of a mother and child. No, he thought, it was more likely that the protection was external and the only conclusion he could come to was that one of her parents had done it. They were the only other people who knew she was carrying a child – a _werewolf's_ child – and the only ones capable of such dark magic.

Everything came back to the one question he could never answer when it came to Eris.

"Why?"

He became aware of Sirius standing before him, studying him with intense cool grey eyes. He was giving him the look he himself had given his mate only a few moments ago.

"I wish I could tell you," he whispered and Remus knew that he meant it.

* * *

Like I said, short and... Now that RL and SB have patched things up, they can move on, which is exactly where the story is going... on...

The next chapter brings a surprise, mentions past characters (from Sophie's past - not her mother!) and causes Sophie to begin her own downwards spiral. Who will save her, I wonder... ;)

(Hint: you won't find out just how far she will go and who will pluck her from the abyss until a few chapters ahead...)


	17. Chapter 17: Unwelcome

**A/N**: Another day, another chapter... at least it feels like it lately. I seem to be on a roll. Believe me, I'm not complaining! This chapter is not as long as I thought it would be but I'm satisfied, for the most part. Review and tell me I'm right;). In this chapter, events in the _The Gift_ are referenced. For those of you who haven't read the first part, you might want to have a looksie at chapters 7, 10 and 18 just to get the gist.

**A/N 2**: This chapter has been edited and reposted. Just in case you're wondering why it seems different and, hopefully, better.

**Warning**: foul language and gory violence between inanimate objects. You'll see...;P

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the twisted sense of humour...

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**: Unwelcome

The hot, lazy days of summer moved slowly in the former Black family home. While Order members were kept busy with assignments – guarding the prophecy and quietly trying to convince those they could that a second war was brewing – the unfortunate group confined to headquarters were beginning to go a little stir-crazy. By the middle of August Mrs. Weasley had done a thorough job of ridding the house of dirt and doxies. With the exception of the cellar and a few corners of the house, headquarters was now as fit as could be expected of a gloomy, aging mansion.

For a mother of seven, the feat wasn't entirely unexpected (she'd managed the Burrow for years, after all) but with four of her own strong-minded children on her hands, two fairly well-behaved but equally strong-willed teens, a household of at least a dozen (and often more) at any one time on her shoulders, and the constant presence of a moody convict to grate on her nerves, Sophie wondered just how Molly could do it. She just wasn't taking care of her own family (a family twice the size of most) but the whole Order of the Phoenix as well. The thought of it left the Sophie, the only child of a single father, in awe. Molly seemed to bear the pressures of daily life at Headquarters well, though her children – particularly the twins – constantly tested her nerves.

On a hot, sticky mid-August morning, two days after the full moon, the whole house was woken up by a large, window-rattling bang. Smoke quickly filled the corridor above Harry and Ron's room and the Weasley matriarch, quick to investigate, found that her sons had set their room on fire. No one was sure just what they'd been up to (though everyone had a theory), but after the fire was quickly put out and all the portraits stunned into silence, Molly tore into them for over an hour about their "pranks and nonsense", then searched the house for any sign of joke shop parapharnelia. All this meant that breakfast was late getting on the table, and lunch was a mid-afternoon meal of sandwiches and potato crisps hastily thrown together by Sophie, Hermione and Harry, who were all eager to coax the matriarch back into a better mood.

After lunch, a still-frazzled Molly was left to Sophie's father, who seemed the best candidate to calm the angry woman down. Sirius, of course, was nowhere to be found – not since poking his head into the kitchen and making off with a sandwich at lunch with barely a word to anyone. It amazed Sophie how a man who wasn't allowed to leave the premises managed to disappear so easily.

The Drawing Room, the other largest room in the house, became the gathering place for Harry and his friends that afternoon. It was a refuge of sorts, far enough from the kitchen and Molly's wrath, yet perfectly situated on the second floor, overlooking the foyer. It was where Harry and Ron had taken up a game of chess with an old set dug out from the bottom of a cupboard, while Ginny and Hermione read magazines and whispered in the corner by the window, occasionally looking out over the sunny street, and Sophie imagined, longing for the rest of the month to pass quickly. The twins, of course, were nowhere to be seen, having been confined to separate rooms for the rest of the day and forced to finish their summer homework as punishment. Ron and Harry felt their absence, as they often shared a laugh, but the girls didn't seem to miss them at all. Ginny, in particular, was very sore at her brothers for subjecting her to another one of their mother's tirades, while Hermione seemed relieved that their products had been confiscated before they got back to school.

Sophie, on the other hand, was torn about it. She enjoyed their company but hadn't been able to feel comfortable around Fred ever since her talk with Tonks. She'd thought about confronting him, perhaps letting him down gently (though she had no idea how to even begin a conversation like that), but the more she thought about it, the more anxious she became, until she finally decided the best course of action was to ignore it. Ignoring crushes had worked before – she'd suffered through unwanted admiration from a shy Ravenclaw and a strange, little Hufflepuff in her early years at Hogwarts – she couldn't see why it wouldn't work now.

Though Sophie hardly considered herself one of Harry's friends, she was invited by the boys to watch their game and she happily took a seat next to Harry on the old velvet couch to play the role of spectator. The antique chess set was like nothing Sophie or the others had ever seen. The pieces were large and heavy, one side made of solid platinum, the other of solid gold. The way the pieces moved fluidly around the board, also solid squares of precious metals, reminded her of her own tiny golden lion given to her by her father on her sixteen birthday.

When the game started, the pieces moved of their own accord, which in itself wasn't unusual for a wizard chess set. What was unusual was the level of aggression between sides. When one of Ron's knights took one of Harry rooks, the golden knight slid out his long sword and decapitated the other piece, its head hitting the board with a clink and rolling off the table, while blood spurted out of the stump where its head had once been attached. _Real_ blood. The game only got bloodier and more gruesome after that. By the end of the match, the board was littered with tiny pieces of platinum limbs and covered in puddles of the sticky crimson liquid.

"_That_ is sick," came Ron's victory cry when he won.

Sophie and Harry stared at the board, then down at their clothes, decorated in a crimson spray, and quietly agreed.

"How do we put it back together?" Harry asked. Most wizard chess sets repaired themselves after a match but this set sat still, the only movement the oozing of more blood and the occasional twitch of a severed limb.

"Maybe one of you should get Sirius," she suggested, looking around and noticing that the girls had left the room.

"I'll go," Harry offered and disappeared through the double doors, leaving Ron and Sophie to stare at the carnage.

"Funny, isn't it?" Ron asked after a moment of silence.

"What's that?"

"The cost of this set, as gross as it is, could probably feed a family of nine for a year."

Sophie regarded him interestedly. She knew the Weasleys weren't well-off (to put it mildly) but it surprised her that Ron would voice his thoughts so easily when he seemed to find his fingernails suddenly fascinating whenever the subject of money came up.

"Probably more than that," she agreed. "Then again, so could half the things Sirius threw in the trash."

Ron's eyes widened. "I know," he said in frustration. "Mad isn't it, how people with money don't even think twice about chucking things away."

Sophie didn't know how to answer that. It struck her that Ron had singled her out as being able to understand. She felt a little pang of something she couldn't identify, realizing that her lack of money was so obvious. _He has no idea_, she said to herself, thinking of her and her father's current financial situation.

Sirius and Harry entered the room while they gathered up remnants of chess pieces that littered the coffee table, Ron's face showing his fascinated disgust, while Sophie tried to shake the unknown feeling. Sirius pulled out his wand and tapped the board. "_Finite_," he mumbled. All the pieces magically pulled themselves together, the head that had rolled under the couch flew through the air and back onto its body, and the blood sank through the cracks of the squares, disappearing from sight.

"I see you found my old set," he said bitterly as he watched the pieces settle back to their positions.

"This was yours?" Harry asked.

"A gift from my uncle Cygnus. Lovely, isn't it."

"Gruesome, more like," Sophie said under her breath.

Sirius smirked. "Good thing you didn't find the set he gave my brother. The pieces make terrible noises and if I remember correctly, there's a knight who likes to disembowel the loser's pieces."

Ron snorted then realized his mate's godfather was being serious. "Where's that one?" he asked in fascination.

Just then Ginny burst in. "You'll never believe it!" she exclaimed.

Hermione followed, holding a copy of _Witch Weekly_ rolled in her hand and looking grim.

"What?" Ron asked, turning his attention to his sister and his friend.

"You'll never guess who's getting married," Ginny went on.

"Pfft, _married_? I thought it was something about Harry."

"Me?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Why would I be in that thing?"

Hermione looked at him nervously. "I told you before, they sometimes print things about you, mention you in some stories."

Sirius made a disgusted noise. He'd read many a nasty piece of gossip about his godson in that rag.

"No," Ginny interrupted, "it's terrible."

Sophie recognized the page the magazine was folded to, having read her dorm mates' old copies at school. The wealthiest families usually had a small write-up about betrothals, complete with sappy stories of proposals and the merits of the perfect match.

"What, is Krum taking himself off the market?" Ron asked scathingly.

"Krum?" Sirius sounded only mildly curious as he examined his old chess set with distaste.

"He's a professional quidditch player," Sophie explained, "very talented."

It was Ron's turn to make an offended sound.

Sirius nodded in understanding and smirked as Hermione gave Ron a withering look. "It' not _Krum_, its Lauren Meadows."

"Lauren?" Sophie, surprised to hear a name from her past, gently pried the magazine from Hermione's hand and smoothed out the page.

"Who's she marrying, then?" Ron asked sounding even less interested than Sirius.

Just as the youngest Weasley said the name, Sophie's eyes fell on the words and her stomach lurched painfully.

"Tristan Cates."

**8888888**

Sirius looked up from his old chess set just in time to see the look of horror on Sophie's face as her eyes scanned the page before her. While the others erupted in a heated discussion about the apparently odd couple, Sophie whispered, "that can't be," flipped the magazine closed to examine the cover and opened it up to stare at the page once more. The look on her face changed only slightly, to one of revulsion and, Sirius noted with interest, fear. For a moment it was as if she'd forgotten that there were others in the room but she seemed to snap out of her shocked state in time to mask her feelings effectively. That is, until Hermione spoke.

**8888888**

"…maybe he's not as bad as you think."

Hermione's contentious words pulled her out of her dumbfounded state.

"Are you kidding me?" she threw out, startling the others. "You have no idea what that Slytherin's like!"

She was aware of five sets of eyes staring at her in astonishment and she quickly backed down, mortified that she'd let her emotions get away from her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, dropping the magazine on the nearest table and quickly retreating from the room.

**8888888**

"What was that about?" Ron asked, staring after Sophie.

Hermione exchanged a look with Ginny as the younger girl hissed, "Told you."

Sirius watched the foursome from his seat on the couch quietly. They seemed to have forgotten he was there.

"That doesn't mean it's true," Hermione responded.

"Do you need more proof?" Ginny shot back, gesturing towards the half-open door.

"What are you two on about?" Ron interjected.

Hermione clearly looked uncomfortable but Ginny didn't let that stop her. "Didn't you hear the rumours about Sophie and Cates a few years ago?"

Harry and Ron gave her a mystified look and she rolled her eyes and went on.

"Someone saw them together in the basement near the end of term that year. From what I heard they looked pretty cozy."

Who saw them?" Ron asked, sounding doubtful.

"Katie Bell."

"Who?"

"She's a Gryffindor, you dolt! She was Sophie's roommate. Where have you been?"

Sirius tuned out the rest of the conversation, which had quickly turned into a grudge match between siblings and quietly got up from the couch, having heard enough teenaged gossip for one day. Harry, who sat watching his best friend and his sister verbally sparring, glanced at him and Sirius nodded in sympathy before slipping out of the room, but not before he grabbed the magazine first.

**8888888**

Sophie stood along a busy sidewalk, staring at the storefront of a small bakery across the street. She'd come to be standing there after a series of Apparitions from the front steps of headquarters to Birmingham, Manchester and Leeds, then jumping to Glasgow, Dundee and finally Aberdeen. She rubbed the pinkie of her left hand with her right index finger, feeling the sensitive pink skin where her nail should have been. Considering her agitated state during Apparitions, she was mildly surprised she'd only managed to lose a nail.

It didn't take her long to work up the nerve to walk across the street but it took her longer to enter _McGiffert's Bake Shop_.

After being expelled from Hogwarts, she often wondered about Jimmy McGiffert, the only one who knew just what kind of monster Cates was – his _other_ victim. She imagined his life after Cates had his revenge on her had been hell and she blamed herself sometimes, but there was little she could do. After living in the pack for three months and having nightmares in which Jimmy was tortured repeatedly by Cates and three masked men, Sophie had finally written him at school. The reply he sent back promptly left little doubt that he was having a hard time of it, thanks to Tristan Cates -- and her meddling.

'_Leave me alone_,' it had read, '_I have nothing to say to you. Never bother me again_.'

Taking a deep breath, she forced her legs to carry her through the door and into the McGiffert family bakery.

**8888888**

Sirius closed his bedroom door behind him, relieved to find that Remus wasn't there, even though it meant his friend was probably having his shoulder cried on by the Weasley matriarch. The thought made him squirm but he knew Remus was better suited to that sort of thing. He just hoped he wouldn't need to do it for his own daughter any time soon.

**8888888**

Sophie found herself standing at the end of a long queue of muggles and she had to fight the urge to turn and run away. She held on long enough to reach the glass-fronted display of sugary sweets and creamy pastries and was greeted by a stout middle-aged woman with kind blue eyes.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked in a distinct thick Scottish accent that told Sophie she was originally from the south.

She looked around at the vast array of baked goods and realized she didn't have any muggle money.

"Um, a rye loaf, please," she answered hurriedly.

"Good choice," she said, "just took them out o' the oven." She pulled a loaf down from a rack along the back wall and slid it into a brown paper bag. "Jimmy, ring this up, would you?"

She pointed to the end of the counter, where Jimmy stood by the till, handing change to an elderly gentleman. Their eyes met and Jimmy's jaw set to a hard line and his eyes burned with loathing at the sight of her. Despite this, she found her legs moving of their own volition towards him.

"Hi," she said softly, averting her eyes for a moment then looking back into his blazing brown orbs.

"That'll be a pound ninety-five," he addressed her, as if she were a stranger.

Sophie coloured, feeling flustered by his reaction. "I've haven't any money," she said sheepishly, "muggle, I mean," she whispered, leaning towards him so that the others around them wouldn't hear. "I've got a few knuts – "

He pushed the loaf towards her across the counter. "It's on the house," he said stiffly, then looked over her shoulder and called, "Next!"

"Wait," she started, surprised by how quickly he was dismissing her, "we need to talk."

"Just take your loaf and go," he hissed as another patron stood in queue behind her, waiting for her to move.

"Please," she breathed, realizing she sounded desperate.

He shot a glance around the bakery. "Meet me in five minutes across the street."

She backed away and turned to leave, wading through the muggle queue and back outside to stand under the rare sunny Aberdeen sky.

**8888888**

Sirius sat upon his bed and flipped through the abused copy of _Witch Weekly_ with purpose until he found the page that read _'Happy Tidings'_ in bold letters across the top. He quickly found the article that took up the last quarter of the page, skipping the blurb and going right for the picture.

"Fuck," he exclaimed as his grey eyes rested on a photograph of a pretty brunette snuggling close to a haughty-looking blue-eyed blonde. He recognized the young man instantly, never having forgotten the face of the last man he'd bitten, the slimy piece of Slytherin rubbish he'd seen abusing a younger boy.

"Tristan Cates."

**8888888**

As soon as Jimmy reached her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the teashop. Sophie barely had time to protest before they were through to the back and out into a back alley.

"What do you want?" he demanded angrily, his stubby fingers falling away from her wrist as he backed away.

She was shaken by his rough treatment, of the anger in his eyes, suppressed rage dripping from his harsh voice, completely at odds with the quiet Hufflepuff she remembered. She knew she should be livid with him but at the moment guilt was winning out.

"Have you heard?"

He studied her face for a moment before answering. "Just tell me why you're here," came the exasperated reply.

"Do you remember Lauren Meadows? She began, the words coming easier than she expected.

"Gryffindor. Head Girl, yeah."

"She's about to ruin her life and we're the only ones who can stop it happening."

He looked at her incredulously. "This is why you're here?! What the bloody fuck do I care about Lauren Meadows?"

This definitely was not the boy she remembered.

"She's engaged," she ploughed on, "to Tristan Cates." When she didn't get any reaction she persisted. "_Tristan_. _Cates_."

Jimmy sighed and his body seemed to sag. "Jesus, you really are tuned to the moon(1), aren't you," he uttered, disbelieving, "what do you propose we do? Skip down to Lauren's hand-in-hand, knock on 'er door and announce that we've both been buggered by her fiancé against our will?"

Sophie's stomach lurched for the second time that day. "He told you?" she asked, her voice breaking with emotion.

"Every sick fucking detail, darlin'," he breathed, sneering.

She felt the contents of her stomach threatening to tumble out and he seemed to soften at the sight of her visibly upset. He approached her cautiously and extended a hand towards her shoulder but pulled it away suddenly and backed away.

"I'm not at Hogwarts any more. I'm done with magic and I want nothing to do with that piece of _shite_ or any other fucking magical arsehole, got it?" His voice was low but firm as he said this.

Sophie was shocked by the revelation but she couldn't let it go. "We can't just stand by and watch – "

" – You did a good job of it before," he accused.

A single tear managed to escape the corner of her amber eyes and she was aware of it as it rolled slowly down her cheek. "What was I supposed to do? They never would have believed me. I'm literally "_tuned to the moon_", aren't I?"

Jimmy didn't respond, but continued to stare at her with a cold look in his eyes.

"Just leave it alone," he said finally.

"I can't," she breathed.

"Then just leave _me_ alone," he finished and began to walk away.

He stopped and turned to her abruptly. "I suggest you leave Aberdeen before the locals in the Ministry come looking for you. Your kind aren't welcome around here these days."

With that, he pulled open the teashop door and disappeared inside.

**8888888**

Sirius didn't know what to make of any of it – the look on Sophie's face, her reaction to the innocuous news, the apparent rumours and his own experience a few years ago. Was it what it looked like on the surface? Was Sophie simply heartbroken?

He knew in his gut that was the wrong conclusion. He'd seen the Slytherin with the other boy, he'd witnessed an argument between his mate's daughter and the haughty young man – all enough evidence to point to loathing rather than love.

The whole thing just didn't make sense and Sirius _had_ to make sense of it. It was in his nature, and he found that he cared about the young woman with the amber eyes and the tall, skinny frame more than he initially thought.

He'd seen her pain, however fleeting, on her face and it worried him. An upset werewolf was never good.

**8888888**

Sophie stood in the dank, rubbish-strewn alley behind the teashop for a long time, until the numbness wore away and she was left feeling like she would fall apart at any moment. The tears that had collected in her eyes streamed freely down her face, yet she didn't move or make a sound, afraid that any movement, any sharp intake of breath, and she would come undone.

And then suddenly she was surrounded by pops and a group of large men were pointing their wands at her, and flashing badges and uttering the words, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, local division," in booming voices and she was pushed up against a wall while hands invaded her space and her body and the whole thing was too much for her fragile state.

Before she realized she was doing it, she'd swung around and her bony elbow made contact with the side of someone's skull and then there was shouting as she was shoved suddenly to the ground and manacles appeared round her wrists, stinging tight shackles laced with something that made her head swim and her skin sear, and as she heard a rough voice reciting her rights, her lids became heavy and she then was unconscious.

* * *

(1) a Scottish saying that basically means someone's crazy, though in Sophie's case, like she says, she really is tuned to the moon...

I know, more twists and turns... can you stand it?! Just so you know, in my version of the magical world, there are local divisions of the Ministry outside London, and Aberdeen, like every major city, has local law enforcement, much like the real - muggle - world.

The next chapter basically picks up where this one left off, with Sophie in custody, having basically assaulted an officer. Yikes. That can't be good... but don't worry, I won't be throwing her in Azkaban or anything, she just gets a taste of where she stands... I won't say more...


	18. Chapter 18: Secrets Uncovered

**A/N:** I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Mental blockage and RL both conspired against me. This was going to be longer but I realized it made more sense to split it up. That means I've already got the next chapter started... hopefully, I'll be able to post it sooner. The summer holidays means I don't have any real time to myself (well, at least not to write) until everyone has gone to sleep & by the time that happens I find it hard to function beyond clicking the mouse or staring slack-jawed at the tv, so I can't promise my updates will come with any regularity. At least I already have some future chapters written, they just need a little tweaking;)

**Disclaimer**: The characters you recognize aren't mine. I'm just messing with them for awhile.

It's shorter than usual, hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter 18**: Secrets Uncovered

_Spring, 1981_.

Remus sat slumped on a hard, straight-backed chair, his chest pushed up against a rickety table, his hands shackled behind him, fighting sleep, nausea and pain. He'd been traveling for days too close to the full moon and it had taken its toll on his mind and body. That was the only way to explain how he'd failed to notice the Ministry wizards lying in wait as he stepped off the ferry at port in Penarth, back from an impromptu trip from France.

"Oi!" came a harsh cry from across the room as a rough-looking member of the Ministry of Law Enforcement came out of the shadows, "No sleeping! This ain't a bloody Inn!"

Remus, his body protesting in sharp aching jabs beneath the muscles, felt anger bubbling underneath the haze of pain and the wolf gave a low growl in his head. He forced himself to focus and with effort, he lifted his chin and made eye contact with the other law enforcement wizard sitting across the table looking at him with an openly curious expression.

"Ready to answer some questions?" the officer asked, his voice less harsh than his partner.

Remus grit his teeth as the skin around his wrists, burning against wolfsbane and belladonna laced handcuffs, stung with the slightest movement. He'd been cuffed since being picked up just outside the small coastal town in Wales and transported to main headquarters in Cardiff. Resisting the urge to answer defiantly, he nodded and stifled a groan.

"Remove the cuffs, Stout," the officer seated across Remus ordered.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Reed," the other protested, "he's a dangerous creature."

"Remove the cuffs," he ordered once again. It was clear to Remus that Reed, while clearly younger than Stout, was in charge.

Officer Stout walked around the table and begrudgingly removed the cuffs, pushing them against Remus' wrists as he touched his wand to the lock. Remus hissed and bit the inside of his mouth to stifle a cry, then slowly brought his arms around from behind his back and set them gingerly on the table in front of him. He dared not look down at the blistered skin on his wrists for fear of retching all over the stark, grey room.

The officer in front of him glanced down then met his eyes once more. "Stout, get a mediwitch. Now."

Remus watched as the middle-aged officer shuffled out the door, grumbling under his breath. He caught the words, "_bleeding heart_," and "_dirty wolf_" as he slammed the door behind him.

"Can you answer some questions while we wait?" Reed asked, a quill poised over a small pad of paper.

"Remus nodded slightly. "Yes," he croaked, despite wanting to laugh at the absurdity of such a request. _If I wasn't a werewolf_, he thought with deprecation, _he'd wait until I was good and healed_.

"What's your business in Wales?"

"I was just," he bit out, "passing through."

"From where?"

"France."

"Where abouts?"

"Le Havre."

"What was your business _there_?"

"A wake."

"Who's?"

"My great aunt on my mother's side." Remus took a breath as the quill scratched hurriedly against paper. "The funeral mass was held at St. Etienne Cathedral day before last," he went on. "It was held at nine in the morning, her name was Margaret de la Falaise, she was married to a Frenchman – "

"That's fine," the officer cut him off with a wave of his hand. He studied Remus for a moment. "Why didn't you just say that when the locals in Penarth picked you up?"

"Didn't exactly get a chance," he answered bitterly, glancing down for the first time at his wrists. He looked away quickly at the sight of deep, pink wet gashes and hanging bits of skin. It was a miracle, he thought as he stared down the officer once again, that he hadn't already passed out.

"Sorry about that," Reed said, his dark eyes flickering once again to his mangled wrists, "they still use those things in the small towns. The Ministry was going to ban their use but since _You-Know-Who's_ grab at power, they've backed off."

Remus held in the snort of derision that had settled somewhere in his nasal cavity and threatened to tumble out.

"If I would have known you still had them on, I would have had Stout switch them with one of _ours_." He pulled his own set of identical cuffs from the loop of his belt and tapped it to the table.

Remus knew what was being left unsaid. "_It's your fault you're suffering_," was the implication. Remus didn't comment, having been in Ministry custody too many times for his liking the past year, and having been shackled with _those_ kind of handcuffs each and every time.

"I'll have the mediwitch take a look at your wrists while I check these facts and then you'll be free to go."

Remus nodded and mumbled a thanks, not feeling very grateful but knowing he had to be polite. The officer left the room and he sat alone for a while longer before a timid-looking mediwitch came in escorted by Stout.

"This witch here's gonna tend to your wrists. You just sit there and behave, got it?"

Remus ignored him and glanced at the young woman in her crisp uniform robes instead. She gave him a nervous, half-hearted smile.

"Got it, you _great dirty wolf_?" Stout whispered, leaning over him, hands spread out on the table. His breath was hot and stale against Remus' face.

He nodded and Stout backed off, allowing the mediwitch to bandage his wrists.

She worked quickly, never looking up from her task, a sure sign she was nervous.

"I've done my best," she said as her fingers worked gently over the last bandage, "but you should let a proper Healer look at it, just to be safe."

Remus nodded and thanked her while Stout gave a taunting laugh as the mediwitch gathered her things, her hands moving hastily to pack up her kit. Remus knew she wanted to get as far away from him as she could. She hadn't been the first mediwitch called on to heal his wounded wrists.

Just as the mediwitch opened the door to leave, officer Reed appeared. "I'll take it from here," he told Stout firmly. The coarse wizard, looking disappointed, slunk away.

Reed beckoned Remus to follow him and led him down a series of corridors, a flight of stairs and out to a back alley.

"You can Disapparate from here," he instructed as a couple of officers Apparated suddenly a few feet away. They gave Reed a nod as they brushed past and into the building. "I suggest you keep moving until you get back to London," he warned, handing Remus his wand and worn, tan rucksack, "You wouldn't want to be picked up for a second time."

Remus was taken aback by the friendly way the officer delivered the warning. In all his run-ins with the Ministry, he'd yet to meet a wizard so polite to a werewolf like him, especially in these times, when Greyback was one of the Ministry's most wanted, second only to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Remus nodded, took his things and walked to the spot where the other officers had just Apparated. He didn't fancy being hauled in by anymore of the locals in Wales – they were far too zealous for his liking. Giving a last glance toward Reed, he took the risk of splinching and Disapparated directly to London.

**)(**

Walking up to the converted old Victorian moments later on sheer will, he quietly let himself into the two-storey flat he shared with Sirius, hoping his mate wasn't there, or at least too busy to notice him, and prayed that no one in the Order had gotten wind of his brief incarceration. He didn't know how he would explain his whereabouts – it was one thing to lie to the Ministry, but another to repeat those lies to James, Sirius, Peter or Lily.

Stepping across the threshold, he was immediately greeted by James' angry voice.

"—I don't care what you say, we need to ask him _first_!"

"_Ask_ him? How do you propose we do _that_?"

"Just ask him!" came the exasperated reply.

"And if he's the spy, you think he'll tell us the truth?!"

James and Sirius bickered back and forth as Peter looked on. He spotted Remus as he peered round the open door and cleared his throat loudly to interrupt their mates. "Uh, guys?" he queried anxiously.

James and Sirius both turned their heads abruptly and their eyes fell on Remus standing by the door. James' angry demeanor turned sheepish as he peered at him through black-rimmed spectacles, but Sirius' fierce look and blazing eyes stayed the same.

"Remus, mate," James blurted out, running a hand subconsciously through already disheveled hair, "we heard what happened. Are you all right?"

Remus looked from James to Sirius to Peter and back at James, taking in their wary expressions. "I'm fine," he said, dropping his rucksack to the floor by the settee.

"Doesn't look like it," Sirius commented, gesturing to his wrists.

"Oh, _this_," he said, holding them up and feeling the anger bubbling just beneath the surface once more, "it's nothing, just the usual Ministry treatment. I should feel special, they always seem to break out the posh cuffs for me."

James dropped his eyes, and Peter fidgeted nervously but Sirius didn't waver.

"Why'd they pick you up?" he asked.

"Do they need a reason?"

Peter let out a nervous chuckle that quickly died in his throat. James glanced towards their nervous mate with a look of confusion on his face but Sirius kept his steel grey eyes on Remus. Remus, feeling the wolf close to the surface all day, didn't back down from the challenge in his flatmate's eyes.

"What it is that you want to know?" he asked, his voice coming out harsh and bitter, "'cause I've already answered a slew of questions in Cardiff. Perhaps it would be better to get your answers there. Ask for officer Reed," he went on, peeling off his torn and sullied jacket and draping it over the nearest chair, "he'll fill you in on where I've been."

Neither James nor Peter said a word.

"We'd like to hear it from you." Again, Sirius wouldn't back down.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why_?" came the irritated reply.

"Would you believe me?" he asked.

Again, no reply. Even Sirius seemed at a loss for words this time.

"I'd love to chat, but I'm tired," he announced, abruptly closing the subject, "I haven't had any sleep and the full moon's near, so if you don't mind, I'm going to wash up and go to bed." He gave each of them a withering look before he headed towards the stairs, deliberately leaving his rucksack by the door and his jacket on the chair.

As he quickly ascended the steps to his room, he had the feeling as soon as he was out of earshot, Peter and James would be whispering about him and Sirius would be rooting around in his pockets. But he wouldn't find anything incriminating – there was nothing to find, he'd made sure of it.

Remus gently shut the door to his room, his bones aching for sleep, and he recalled the words he'd overheard only minutes ago coming from his mates. _'If he's the spy' indeed_, he thought indignantly, deciding to skip the bath and dropping his sore, travel-worn body onto his bed. The single word, thrown out so casually, like it had been bandied about between them for a while, stung more than the raw skin on his wrists. It hurt to know the truth once and for all, to finally have confirmation that his mates, who knew him best, doubted his integrity.

Remus was a lot of things – a werewolf, a poor man, a liar – but he wasn't and would never be a Death Eater. He could never betray his friends like _that_.

He lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, its slight cracks having grown since he'd seen them last. As he studied the newly formed lines, tracing them back to the original in the corner with his tired, amber eyes, his left hand fished into the front of his jeans and he pulled out a small mokeskin sack. He fingered the sack, which fit in the palm of his hand, then slid the soft fabric along its cord and widened its mouth. He reached in and pulled out a shiny gold Galleon, which glimmered in the fading sunlight streaming in from the window, casting a reflection of golden discs on the plain white walls. He jangled the pouch against his stomach, wondering how much _exactly_ was in there, but he knew it wasn't his business – he was just the messenger, not the recipient, of the small fortune in his hand. That distinction belonged to Kate.

He slipped the Galleon back into its pouch, pulled the cord and secured the opening, then reached under his mattress and shoved what he mockingly regarded to as '_incriminating evidence'_ between the drooping box spring and lumpy mattress.

_If they only knew_, he thought, pulling the sheets down over the impromptu hiding spot, _they'd surely be convinced_.

He rolled onto his back and fell asleep with that grim and disconcerting thought in his head.

* * *

"So he was helping you?"

The question hung in the cool, crisp late October air, heavy like a rotting apple clinging to a dying tree.

"Yes," came the monotone reply.

Remus watched as Mad Eye Moody questioned Kate with Veritaserum – a requirement for any potential Order member. He had been through this kind of interrogation himself, just out of Hogwarts, and it had been Moody who'd posed the questions then, too, just as he'd posed them to Sirius, James, Peter and Lily – and just as he posed them to Kate now.

Moody caught his eye with a curious look. "That's what you were up to back then?" he asked, his magical eye still regarding a slack-faced Kate.

Remus nodded silently.

After all these years his secret was finally out – a secret he hadn't even told Sirius yet.

"You should'a said, boy," he grumbled, fixing both eyes on Kate.

Remus shrugged in answer. It was all in the past, he wanted to leave it there.

He half-listened as Moody continued to question Kate about her history, her loyalties, her views on the dark arts, Voldemort, lycanthropy. He only half-listened because his mind was distracted by other thoughts – Sophie being only one of his concerns.

It had been two months since Sophie had been picked up by the local Ministry officers in Aberdeen, only a month since she'd been released after it was discovered that she'd never been registered and had somehow fallen through the bureaucratic cracks – cracks she'd fallen through a year ago thanks to Dumbledore's influence.

It took the Ministry – after transporting her back to London with Aurors – a month to decide how to handle the first known second-generation lycan in a century. They'd poked and prodded, questioned and observed, and finally come to a decision on how to handle the "_aberration_" on their hands. After many consultations between different departments (the werewolf capture unit, the werewolf registry and werewolf support services), the Ministry decided to keep the fact that she existed – and that it was possible, despite myth, for a male lycan to reproduce – from getting out to the public.

Sophie was quietly let go one gloomy September day, after being officially registered at the Ministry and warned about the consequences of sharing her status with anyone, the only mention of her "_unique condition_" in her file a small note at the bottom of a page, though the tattoo on her hipbone, etched into the skin with magical ink, bore an extra character at the end – a roman numeral seven.

Remus had waited for her outside the Ministry on the busy London street, and was shocked and saddened to see his daughter looking tired and so much older than when he'd seen her last. He took her by the arm and brought her back to headquarters, which was quiet again (if not peaceful) since the start of the school year. Sophie slept for a day and when she awoke, acted as if nothing had happened. Taking his cue from his daughter, he played along, much to Sirius' disconcertion, and never broached the subject (wasn't even sure he wanted to) and life went on as it had before the arrival of their summer guests.

Things would have been back to normal – or as normal as the life they led could be – had it not been for the subtle changes he noticed in his daughter since her return. At first, he chalked it up to her month in a cage at the Ministry (his own experience as a child was burned into his memory), but as time went on he got the feeling that there was more to the way his daughter had withdrawn from daily life at the Order, disappeared for hours at a time and sometimes seemed to have a haunted look in her eyes. Her behaviour reminded him, painfully, of what she'd been like after the rape, and made him wonder if something else – something _terrible_ – had happened to her. The thought of it made him sick and he tried to push it out of his mind, but the more he noticed her sullen, quiet moods, the more he was tormented by the thought that his daughter was in pain and he was helpless to stop it.

And then there was Sirius, with his heavy drinking and his increasingly erratic moods and the frustration that was eating away at him waiting for Scrimgeour to contact Dumbledore about his potential freedom. This was another thing, no matter how hard he tried, that Remus was at a loss to stop.

"Remus?"

He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder shaking him gently. He looked up and into Kate's cerulean eyes, the clarity back in the dark grey pupils.

"We're done," she said gently, her eyes searching his for the answer to some unasked question.

He looked down and across the room at Moody, who was pulling his traveling cloak over his shoulders. He turned and laid eyes on Remus.

"Back from your reverie, boy?" he asked brusquely. He stomped closer and fixed him with a reproachful glare. "I hope you haven't made that a habit, Lupin. You start daydreaming on assignment, you're dead!"

Remus felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. He stood up from his perch on the old wobbly chair and began to gather himself. "I assure you, Moody," he answered, fiddling with his own cloak, "I practice _constant vigilance_ when I'm out in the field."

He caught a smirk on Kate's face out of the corner of his eye.

"Just so you remember that, boy," the old man responded, "now, get yourself back to headquarters. I'm expecting a delivery and I doubt your mate will be any help with that."

Remus didn't say anything as he fastened his old cloak at his neck. He wondered what sort of delivery Moody was expecting and which unfortunate Order member would have to face a barely-sober and surly Sirius.

"So, where are you staying?" Moody's question was directed at Kate.

"Um," Remus began, realizing that in his daydream state, he'd forgotten the most important thing. "I was actually going to bring her back to headquarters tonight."

"Why didn't you say so, boy?" he threw out, sounding exasperated. It had been a long time since he'd heard that tone from Moody directed at him. It instantly made him feel seventeen again.

The old wizard pulled out a slip of parchment from an invisible pocket on the front of his cloak (_very handy_, Remus thought) and handed it to him. "Remember to burn it directly afterwards," he reminded.

Remus nodded and took the tiny slip while Kate looked on in puzzlement.

Moody gave a gruff goodbye and wrenched open the front door, Disapparating as soon as he stepped out of the protective charm of Remus' childhood home. Remus waited for Kate to gather up her cloak and bag and with a flick of his wand, the sheets covering the sparse furniture spread out over the table and chairs. He tapped his wand to the front door, locking it with a spell, and headed out the back door to join Kate in the garden, ready to Disapparate back to Grimmauld Square.

"Are you sure it's all right?" Kate asked, as he joined her by the tallest tree, "Staying there, I mean. It's fine with your mate?"

Remus gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course," he answered, "you're one of us now. It'll be fine."

As they Disapparated together, Remus leading her in a side-along for her first visit to headquarters, he silently prayed that Sirius would in fact be '_fine_' with someone else – someone Remus suspected he disliked – taking up residence under the roof of his former childhood home.

* * *

I know this is not like the preview, but I decided to skip Sophie's experience with the Ministry in exchange for a Remus-centric flashback. I hope it was satisfactory. Let me know. I really like to know what people think:)


	19. Chapter 19: A Sirius Welcome

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, RL is pretty hectic during the summer. Unfortunately that means less time for fics and half the concentration. With that warning, I give you the next chapter. Please be kind (or at least tell me it sucks in a nice way), it's been grueling trying to make sense of this chapter...

**Warnings:** a few objectionable words...

**Disclaimer:** I didn't create this universe or its characters. If I had, there would be some strange goings on in the wizarding world. Just having fun. Please don't sue.

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**Chapter 19**: A Sirius Welcome

Sirius stumbled up the steep narrow steps at the top of the house, a bag of dead rats in his hand as he made his way to a cavernous room to feed Buckbeak the hippogriff.

He'd woken up in the mid-afternoon to find Moony's bed empty – which wasn't a surprise given the time – and the kitchen devoid of any living soul. A small note was tacked to the cupboard door that housed the alcohol, a gesture he took to mean the note was for him. It was short and irritating, telling him only that Remus would be back for dinner with a guest. He also asked Sirius to relay this information to Sophie. Sirius had searched the house for his mate's daughter, but when he couldn't find her, he figured she too had abandoned him and set about collecting rats just for something to do.

For the last few months, Sirius had been left to himself for long stretches of time with nothing to do but wander the house, collect dead rats, and drown his thoughts in whatever was sitting in that particular kitchen cupboard. Today, he realized glumly as had stuffed the note in his pocket, would be no different.

With Sophie having been in Ministry custody for a month – and now under the Werewolf Division's watchful eye – all hope of getting a little air and exercise was gone. A few times he thought about going out on his own as Padfoot but couldn't get the thought of Dementors swooping down on him at any moment out of his head.

The only time he'd managed to do it without her, he'd escorted Harry to King's Cross Station, and that had turned out to be a big mistake. Lucius Malfoy had spotted him and alerted the Ministry to his whereabouts and now every corner of London was being turned out in hopes of finding him and handing him over to the Dementors for a Kiss. The thought of it made him shudder every time.

Sirius' only solace for the sad existence he'd been forced to lead were the periodic visits by some of the Order members he could stand to be around and his godson's infrequent letters. For a man who'd suddenly been thrust into constant company for two solid months after a dozen years in solitude, none of it was enough. Sirius had been so desperate for interaction, at one point he'd even chanced flooing Harry for a second time (after Mundungus told him about Harry's plans to become Hogwart's unofficial DADA professor) in the Gryffindor Common Room, against Remus' advice (he thought a well-coded letter would have sufficed but Sirius couldn't figure how to put, "_they know what you're up to and you've got to watch your back, but good on you_" in any kind of code Harry was bound to understand). Even though he'd taken measures to ensure that no one was around when he finally made his appearance in the fire, he'd almost been caught. When Remus found out he warned him against doing it again, scolding him like a child, and Sirius vowed to keep the next time to himself. All of this was enough to drive _any _man to drink, let alone a man in his position – at least that's what he told himself as pushed Remus and the others away and retreated to an empty room in the house every night clutching a bottle. The fact that Sophie, back for three weeks, had taken it upon herself to do the same (minus the alcoholic tendencies), only made him feel more justified in his behaviour.

If all of this wasn't enough, the end of October loomed ahead. It would be the first time in fourteen years that Sirius was aware of the date. He couldn't fathom how exactly he would deal with the anniversary of James and Lily's deaths and he hoped that if he drank enough, he wouldn't have to.

As soon as Sirius stepped onto the topmost landing, he was greeted by the pungent smell of cheap tobacco. He stepped into Buckbeak's room, which spanned across the back of the house, and searched the dimness for the source. The hippogriff lay in the far corner, snuffling loudly as it slept on an improvised nest of mangled cardboard boxes and the tiny bones of rats and other sundry pests. Sirius stepped towards it carefully and placed the sack by its head. He sniffed the air and followed the scent out of the hippogriff's quarters and into the smaller room at the front of the house, his and his brother's old schoolroom. His eyes immediately settled on Sophie, sitting on the wide windowsill, which Sirius had used as a makeshift desk as a child, pretending to do his daily assignments while staring out over the street wistfully instead. The large square window's dirty framed panes had been pushed out to let in the crisp autumn air, and Sophie dangled her left leg out precariously over the jutting edge, the other tucked in Indian-style, socked foot grazing her jean-clad thigh. He spied a cigarette, newly lit, in her hand, which rested on her knee before she brought it to her lips and sucked languidly on the end.

"There you are," he said, startling her.

Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice and she visibly stiffened. She met his gaze and relaxed, though only a little, and nodded once while blowing the smoke out in a long thin stream towards the open window.

"I thought you'd gone out," he added, walking into the room and settling on the other end of the sill.

"Nope," was all she said before taking another drag and shifting her slouched frame further up the broken shutter. It creaked as it hung precariously from rusted hinges.

"Just up here smoking cheap cigarettes?"

Sophie visibly blanched, then dropped her eyes and fiddled with the frayed hem of her jeans. He felt a tiny pang of what he supposed was guilt. He hadn't meant to imply anything by it, he'd smoked his share of cheap cigarettes over the years, but just as Remus had always been sensitive about the subject of money (or lack thereof), so, it seemed, was his daughter.

"Do you have another?" he asked, trying to smooth her over and in need of something – anything – to do to pass the time.

Sophie looked him in the eyes. "Sorry," she breathed, "last one." She regarded him for a moment then offered him the cigarette silently with an outstretched hand.

He slipped it from her fingers and took a slow drag, the filter end warm and damp on his lips, a sharp sweet taste, like strawberries and mint, faint on his tongue. She watched as he blew out the smoke, trying to hide the nauseated expression on his face at the bitter taste and burning effect on his lungs.

"Horrible, aren't they?" she asked matter-of-fact.

"Did you get these from Dung?"

Sirius, who'd once been a heavy smoker, had taken up the habit again just after Harry left for school but despite being locked up in his parents' house once again, he had managed to stay clear of Mundungus Fletcher's illicit trade in cigarettes (only one of a dozen of Dung's shady operations). Anything Dung sold was bound to be rubbish.

He passed the cigarette back and she took it from him carefully, her fingers grabbing it close to the lit end and once again putting it up to her lips.

"No, from a friend," she answered cryptically, then took a puff and turned towards the window.

It occurred to Sirius suddenly that she had avoided touching him both times.

"Well, they're shite." He made a gesture for her to hand it over.

"They were free." She held it out to him.

They passed the quickly dwindling cigarette back and forth in silence a few more times before she took one last long drag and snubbed it out on the outside sill. Sirius watched her surreptitiously from the corner of his eye while he pretended to look out over the street, Grimmauld Square a bit more visible through the thinning autumn leaves. He noticed how she didn't drop the fag end down to the street but kept it in her hand.

"Did you see the note?" she asked, regarding him with probing hazel eyes.

He reached into his shirt pocket and held it out. Sophie's eyes fell to the note and she took it without a word.

"'_Guest_'?" she queried, looking up from the torn slip of parchment.

"No idea," he answered, shrugging, though he secretly thought that it could be Tonks.

He'd noticed the way his cousin had been looking at his mate lately, the way she tended to lean rather close when they talked and laughed brightly at his little quips. It might have made Sirius jealous – on principle only – (she _was_ a relative, after all, and he'd never been _that_ kind of Black) had it not been for the fact that Remus had always been rather clueless about these things, and being polite to a fault himself, tended to view women's attentions as friendliness, or perhaps just "their way". Even if he had worked it out, poor Tonks didn't have a chance. Like the younger Lupin before him, Remus was extremely guarded, though he doubted his mate would go as far as avoiding Tonks' touch like Sophie was pointedly avoiding his.

Reaching out, he took the paper when she handed it back. He deliberately grazed her fingers with his just to see if she would react the same way. She quickly pulled her hand away as if she'd been burned. Disquieted, she drew her leg back in from the window and pulled it closed. "It's cold," she murmured by way of explanation as she settled back and tugged the sleeves of her worn black jumper over her hands.

Sirius, who'd been watching her closely before she'd disappeared for a month, had let his interest dwindle since her return, too caught up in his own downward spiral to bother with anyone else's. Since that late August day when she fled the house and was subsequently arrested, he'd sometimes wondered about what had triggered her odd behaviour that day and had gone as far as asking around the Order about Tristan Cates as subtly as he could, and listened in on conversations the children had about the subject (Ginny finding the subject too perplexing to let go). From his eavesdropping and conversations, he'd gathered the Cates were purebloods, though none he'd ever known, the girl he was about to marry had once been Gryffindor Head Girl, and the match – from the children's point of view at least – was unexpected (or as Ginny put it, "unnatural"). All this information in the absence of the one who'd triggered his curiosity meant little to him when the children left for school, but now, as he watched her fidget and curl into herself protectively, he couldn't help but feel (with a solemn sinking feeling) that he already knew what was wrong.

Sophie jumped up suddenly, startling Sirius out of his thoughts.

"Someone's at the door," she said just as the doorbell chimed loudly and echoed off the cracked and peeling mansion walls.

The raging tones of his mother's portrait immediately filled the silent house.

"Fuck," he mumbled, leaping off the windowsill and heading for the stairs, all grim thoughts of Sophie's troubles quickly leaving his mind.

He hated when members rung the bell. He'd asked them many times to simply use the knocker as Remus had charmed the door to sound in any occupied room in the house. Still, they insisted on pressing the gold round button and setting off the grim soundtrack to so many of his childhood memories. He hated that damn bell.

"Did you see who it was?" he yelled over his shoulder as he bounded down the stairs, Sophie following close behind.

"Um," she hedged, as he raced towards his mother's portrait, wand out, "it might have been Snape."

_Figures, fucking greasy bat_, he grumbled in his head, or so he thought until he noticed Sophie trying to hide a smirk as she passed him and headed for the front door.

Sirius blasted the portrait with a Stunner and quickly pulled the curtains closed just as Sophie opened the door. Severus Snape pushed past, looking smug, and Sirius found his feet almost racing him to stand chest to chest with his nemesis.

"What do you want?" he breathed, mindful of the recently stunned portrait and aware of the loud buzzing in his ears (which might have been his blood boiling as much as it was the ringing that always followed one of his mother's cacophonous outbursts).

"_Lovely_ greeting, Black, as always," Snape answered laconically, an unpleasant look plastered on his long sallow face. "I've some potions for the Order," he went on, "Moody's requested them."

Sirius stepped back and grudgingly motioned for Severus to pass into the front parlour, which had been turned into a triage room of sorts. The fussy, gothic furniture had been carted out and replaced with a few small single beds, matching bedside tables laid with empty pitchers and basins, privacy screens, a scattering of chairs and a large cupboard that housed the medical supplies. The shelves, which had once been lined with his mother's macabre collectibles, now held an array of bandages, salves and potions. The room had not yet been utilized for its new purpose but from their experience with the previous war, they knew it was only a matter of time before the parlour saw its first patient.

Severus Snape went to work, pulling the cupboard doors open with a flourish and opening up his small leather bag. He carefully pulled out tiny green glass bottles, labeled in small, cramped writing, and lined them up neatly on the shelves.

"I trust I don't have to explain what each of these potions are for, Black?" he asked, his trademark sneer intact, as he turned to stare Sirius down.

It was generally accepted in the Order that Sirius would be in charge of the room, since he had a certain talent for healing and was well versed in different spells and potions.

"I can read, you git," he hissed, every bad feeling he had for the former Slytherin welling up inside him.

Sophie stood close but didn't say a word, only watched them tacitly, the silent referee.

"_Really_? I rather doubted it, considering the only way you got through school was copying off your _slightly_ more intelligent mates."

"James would be thrilled you thought him intelligent, Snape," he threw back sarcastically, knowing the mention of James would rile him up, even though it hurt to say his name aloud.

Severus' dark eyes shrunk in anger and Sirius felt a wave of primal satisfaction.

"I was actually referring to your _feral friend_" he drawled, then widened his eyes mockingly throwing a glance at Sophie, "oh, excuse me – _Lupin_," he finished.

Sirius felt a sting of indignation but before he could respond, Sophie spoke.

"_Excuse me_?" she asked, her voice low and controlled. Sirius sensed the anger just underneath her composed façade.

Severus narrowed his eyes and the smirk grew wider on his face. "Hit a nerve, _did I_?" he asked, his voice dripping with the same sort of satisfaction that Sirius had enjoyed a moment earlier.

Sirius fought the urge to whip out his wand and hex Snape before he went too far with his mate's daughter. He was more curious to see how Sophie would handle her slimy former professor.

"If I gave a toss what _you_ thought," she responded, her eyes flashing amber, "perhaps. But since I don't…" There was a world of inference and insult in the single word – _you_.

Sirius couldn't help but smile. After nearly a month of playing the quiet, sullen girl, Remus' daughter had suddenly come to life.

"Really, Lupin," Snape drawled, anger beginning to burn in his coal black eyes, "didn't your father ever teach you respect?"

"What my father taught me is none of your damn business," she replied, matching his smug tone.

Something dangerous flashed in Snape's eyes and his body became rigid with fury. Sirius knew from experience that Sophie had just crossed some invisible line with her former professor.

"You're done," Sirius interrupted, sensing that to let the situation play out would be a mistake, "so why don't just you run along, eh?"

Severus tore his beetle black eyes away from Sophie and fixed his nasty glare on Sirius. "Gladly," he seethed, turning to pick up his black leather bag in a slow, controlled, deliberate manner. When he turned back around the look of anger was gone, replaced by a knowing smirk.

"What is it," he said, checking his watch, "time for you to get supper on the table? I know how you _enjoy _your domestic role."

Sirius felt the jab, below the belt, just as Snape had intended. He curled his hands into fists but tried to hold back his anger.

"That's right," he agreed cockily, "and if you stand there any longer we'll lose our appetites, so why don't you just get the fuck out."

Sophie let out a sniff of laughter and Sirius smiled happily, feeling rather uplifted by the nasty look that had settled back on Snape's face.

"_My, my_," he said, quickly recovering, "I see you've acquired another member for the Sirius Black Fan Club." He threw Sophie a lecherous glance, leaned closer to Sirius and mock whispered, "or perhaps she's already part of the harem."

Sirius pulled out his wand and darted towards Snape instinctively. The slimy git had just gone too far.

"Watch your mouth, _Snivellus_," he seethed, thrusting the point of John Lupin's wand under Snape's chin, "that's my mate's daughter you're talking about."

He felt a hand clamp around his shoulder and try to pull him away.

"My point _exactly_," Severus replied, his jaw barely moving, "you should be ashamed, she's practically still a child." Ricidule glinted in the small, black eyes.

"Get off it, you arsehole," he spat angrily, "and apologize before I make you."

"And how do you plan to do_ that_," he mocked, "with that bit of rotted wood in your hand."

Sirius could feel jaw press against wand as Severus spoke through gritted teeth and managed to smirk. His simmering anger began to bubble over.

"_You slimy piece of_ – "

Suddenly, Sophie shoved an arm between them.

"Enough!" she exclaimed, facing Sirius and looking pointedly at his wand. "That's. Enough." She turned to look at Snape. "If you want to do each other in, you'll have to wait until the end of the war. If you're both still alive when it's over, you can hex each other all you want."

She managed to come between them completely, and they each stood an arms' length apart, though Sirius' fist still managed contact with the front of Snape's black robes.

"Until then," she continued, looking pointedly at each of them, "don't use me as an excuse to act like fucking _children_ – "

" – He insulted you!" "Watch your tone!" they retorted angrily, words overlapping.

"What's going on here?"

Sirius didn't need to turn his head to know that Remus was standing behind him. He could feel his presence as well as the presence of another person – this one, unfamiliar.

"Well?"

Severus was the first one to speak.

"Would you mind extricating your _spawn_ and your _cohort_ from off my person, Lupin?" he sneered, little bits of spittle flying as he spoke.

"Sirius, let him go," Remus demanded in a burdened tone.

Sirius let go and backed away resentfully.

"If you're done, perhaps it's best if you leave," Remus went on, looking at Snape patiently.

Snape huffed indignantly, pushing himself up to full height, and – much to Sirius' perverse delight – puffing out his scrawny chest. He chanced a quick glance at Sophie who was looking at Snape with a disgusted look on her face.

He strode past Sirius and Sophie silently, then stopped abruptly at the door, blocking Sirius' view.

"Well, wonders never cease," Snape stated monotonously.

Only the blonde top of a head was visible over Snape's greasy black mane.

"Hello, Severus," came the soft female voice.

Despite having heard that voice over fifteen years ago, Sirius knew at once who it was.

"I didn't know you were with the Order," Kate went on as she stepped around Snape and towards Remus.

Snape gave them both a cold, appraising look, Sirius and Sophie plainly forgotten.

"I could say the same for you," he drawled, "but the fact that you're still alive and – _well_, it seems to trump that concern."

Sirius watched, fascinated, as Remus instinctively moved closer to Kate and hovered protectively beside her. He glanced again at Sophie, standing close to him, watching with an impassive face.

"I'm sure it must be a shock then," Kate responded casually, "to see me here."

"No, not really," Snape said, sounding bored, "your lot seem to have innate survival instincts."

"That we do," she said, smiling and taking what Sirius considered an insult with grace.

"If you'd kindly keep the fact that I'm alive _and_ well to yourself," she added, "that would surely help in my continual survival."

Snape regarded her indifferently. "Not to worry," he answered, "I haven't seen a Lestrange for years and as you're now part of our little army, I couldn't divulge your identity to anyone if I tried, as I'm sure Lupin here will tell you."

_Lestrange?_ Sirius' curiosity was peaked.

Kate looked to Remus who nodded, then offered to escort Snape out. He threw an apologetic glance at Sirius before following their former schoolmate but Sirius only looked away, annoyed.

Kate crossed the room and embraced Sophie then approached him and offered a hand.

"Stubby Boardman, I presume?" she quipped, smiling.

Sirius smiled back, despite the anger that still had hold of him, and took her hand.

"I see you've met the resident twat," he responded, referring to his least favourite Order member.

"Long time ago," she answered, unfazed by his choice of words, "haven't seen him for years."

Before Sirius had a chance to say anything more on the subject, his curiosity spurred on by his resentment and anger, Remus came back into the room.

"I really wish the two of you would be more civil to each other, Sirius," he commented, sounding put out as he approached.

"When _he_ learns what it means to be civil, I'll try," he retorted harshly, giving Remus a look that told him to drop the subject.

Remus looked away.

"Sophie, why don't you show Kate to a room," he suggested, effectively closing the subject.

Sirius was grateful Remus knew him well.

"I have a better idea," Kate interrupted, "I seem to remember the promise of your famous steak and kidney pie. '_Mr. Boardman_' here can give me the tour while you whip them up. I've been craving one for weeks."

Remus smiled and looked at Sirius expectantly. "If it's alright with you?" he asked.

Sirius looked from Kate to Remus, amused that anyone would crave Remus' cooking, and agreed. He took her single bag, a beat-up brown plaid suitcase that looked like it had been rescued from a rubbish bin, and beckoned her to follow him quietly into the corridor. Sophie lingered in the parlour with Remus and Sirius supposed, from the look on her face as he passed, she might be annoyed that her father had not thought to tell her Kate was coming that day. He wondered briefly if she knew her fellow lycan's connection to the Lestranges or if she, too, was curious.

Sirius led Kate up the spiral stairs to the third floor, and showed her to the room at the end of the u-shaped corridor – one of only two rooms on the entire floor and the room Molly Weasley had refused to stay in during the summer. He entered the room first and held open the door, beckoning her in with all the fanfare of a porter at a luxurious hotel, and then set her bag down by the foot of the antique four-poster bed.

"This is quite posh," she said looking around and taking in the dark walnut antique furnishings, brass and stained glass lamps and two large gilded framed mirrors that hung on opposite walls so that whoever looked into it could see their reflection mirrored back at them infinitely.

Sirius glanced around but only saw the peeling wallpaper, dusty, dark furniture and mouldy garish olive bed covering that his mother had handpicked years ago along with matching bedcurtains and drapery that covered each turret window, echoing his own room, which sat above. It gave Sirius a strange satisfaction at the thought that a werewolf would be sleeping in his mother's room. _If that old hag only knew_, he thought wickedly, then realized he could just skip down and inform her.

"It's a mausoleum," he said off-handed.

"But still a step above a rusty caravan," she said lightly.

"You might change your mind by morning," he countered, though not as lightly.

"Why's that?" she asked, looking a little concerned, "this four-poster not going to swallow me up or something, is it?"

Sirius smiled grimly. "No, nothing like that, though – " he approached the bed and prodded it experimentally, then sat on the edge and bounced up and down. He motioned for her to join him and she sat reluctantly on the very edge. He waited a moment, waiting for something to happen. "Nope," he went on more assuredly, "I suppose it's just me, being stuck here and all," he finished candidly.

Kate stood up abruptly and turned to face him. "Remus mentioned you've been here a while," she said.

"Did he?"

She nodded.

"Mention anything else?" he asked, wondering just what Remus had said to her. _Probably warned her about me_, he thought, noting the way she'd sat on the edge and as far as she could a moment ago.

"Not really," she said as lightly as before, giving Sirius the idea that she knew more about him that she should, "just that there's a chance of having your name cleared, thanks to Sophie."

Sirius stood up and strode slowly over to one of the turret windows, taking a peek outside to the street below. "Hmm," he said noncommittally, "if they ever get off their arse, that is."

"The Ministry, you mean?"

He wasn't sure, but he had the sense she was fishing.

"Scrimgeour."

He turned slightly to look at her reaction. She was eyeing at him with furrowed brows.

"What's the Head of the Auror Department have to do with it?"

"He's heading the investigation," he answered.

"Dumbledore's doing?"

"I suppose," he lied.

He knew full well that Scrimgeour had taken the task of proving his innocence at Dumbledore's behest. It seemed just about everyone owed Dumbledore one or two favours over the years.

"He's got a lot of influence, doesn't he?" she asked after a moment of thoughtful silence.

"More than you know," he said a bit more resentfully than intended.

Kate didn't miss the dark tone but said nothing. Sirius, dropping the mouldy fabric back over the long slim window, suddenly remembered what he'd been meaning to ask.

"So," he said, changing the subject abruptly, "tell me something – why did Snape mention the Lestranges?"

Kate was taken aback for a moment at his direct approach but answered anyway. "I was married to Leo Lestrange," she answered, her voice subdued.

Sirius had heard the name before. He was a cousin of Bellatrix's husband, Rodolphus. Ironically, Sirius had once been intended for Leo's older sister.

"So you're pureblood then?" he asked ruefully, hating the question but curious all the same.

"Not anymore," she answered briskly.

Sirius gave her an apologetic look. It seemed to work.

"I come from a long line of Seers," she offered, "the Trelawneys."

The name sparked something in his memory. He distinctly remembered a girl at Hogwarts with bug-eye glasses and frizzy brown hair. She'd been a Hufflepuff a few years older. He just couldn't remember a name.

"Seers, eh?" he queried, more curious now than ever.

Kate smiled. "Alas I wasn't born with the gift," she said with wistful regret.

"Too bad," he replied, "would have come in dead handy fifteen years ago."

She let out a short, stilted laugh. "Yeah, I guess it would."

Sirius stood for a moment, the awkward silence heavy in the air.

"Well," he hedged, "I should go and help Remus before he makes a mess of dinner."

She nodded and he left her looking relieved that the inquisition was over. As soon as he stepped out into the corridor and shut the door, he met with a serious-looking Remus.

"All right then?" he asked, trying to seem casual, even though Sirius figured he'd been waiting out there – and possibly spying – probably since they'd entered the room.

"Not to worry, Moony," he said in a louder voice than usual (for Kate's benefit), "I was on my best behaviour." He smirked. "I'll give her a chance to settle in before dazzling her with my wit and charm." He waggled his brows comically.

"Why did you put her in your mother's old room?" he persisted, completely ignoring Sirius' attempts at humour.

"Bit more comfy than those cramped guest rooms, don't you think?" he quipped, before adding, "Just wait until that filthy little toerag finds out, he'll be whining to the old hag's portrait straight away."

He beamed, feeling elated at the thought.

Remus did not look amused.

* * *

I swear that's the end of the chapter... even if it doesn't seem like it.

I can't guarantee when the next chapter is coming... hopefully I'll get it out quicker considering I have a few chapters written in advance and only need to fill in a few blanks for continuity...

Thanks for being patient and sticking with the fic... I swear I'm finishing this one, if all goes well, by the end of the year (that's only, like, four months right?)


	20. Chapter 20: Written by Hand

**A/N:** Another sporadic update for you. For those still sticking with this fic, thank you for your patience. I personally get annoyed by writers that take forever to update, so again, thanks:)

**Warning: ** angst and some violence

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the HP universe or any characters. Just borrowing.

**Chapter 20:** Written by Hand

October 31st came and went without much fanfare in headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Despite the momentous event that had taken place on that day, there was no gathering, no lamentations – nothing to mark the anniversary of James and Lily's deaths. While most of the Order avoided headquarters that day (and most of the week), Sophie and Kate tried their best to go about their day as usual while giving Sirius a wide berth. Only her father was brave enough to attempt contact with Sirius and they marked the grim anniversary alone together, sharing their deep private grief over a few pints of James' favourite muggle beer.

Sophie spent her birthday in and out of number 12 Grimmauld Place, determined to treat the day as any other and for the most part, she was successful. Those who knew it was her birthday respected her wishes, though she did receive a few presents (a box of assorted _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_ and a tin of Honeyduke chocolates from the twins, a warm woolly scarf from her father and a pair of black leather gloves from Kate and Belenus, who sent a note – the first communication since their fight – wishing her well). She was also pleasantly surprised by Tonks (though she'd never mentioned her birthday and wondered how the Auror knew) who took her to lunch at a muggle restaurant on the other side of town. She even managed to avoid Sirius and his dark and sombre mood.

It wasn't until days later that Sirius, crossing her path on the stairs, acknowledged the passing of her eighteenth birthday and handed her a small sack of galleons as a gift. Her father encouraged her to spend it on herself and with Tonks' help, she managed to push away the guilt long enough to indulge. Sirius' generous gift afforded her a new pair of jeans, a pair of black leather boots, and a warm woolen coat that would keep her warm for the first winter in many years.

Despite the passing of that fateful day, her father and Sirius were soon back to their regular routine – her father researching, reading and travelling; Sirius drinking, occasionally filling reports but mostly just passing the time – and the Order continued to muddle on in their quest to thwart Voldemort. There were reports of Death Eater meetings, rumours of recruitment, but nothing solid ever came of any of it. Only the guard duty seemed real, though the few times Sophie had sat under Moody's invisibility cloak watching the dark drafty Ministry corridor for hours at a time, she often wondered if she was just guarding an empty room. But even now, confined to the few duties she could do without attracting Ministry attention, she began to wish for the chance to sit under that cloak.

It was welcome news then, when at the end of November, an Order meeting was finally called.

**8888888**

Sirius padded down the stairs, his longish hair still wet from the shower. It was nearly nine o'clock and the meeting would begin soon, but Sirius, having spent the day chasing the house elf around and trying to force him to clean, had been covered from head to foot in soot from the old fireplace in his father's study. Though he was tempted to attend the meeting looking like a chimney sweep, he reckoned he needed to clean up before Molly saw him and gave him her awful pitying look. He'd been receiving that look more and more from Order members (though he supposed the rampant drinking had something to do with it) but Molly was the worst. She managed to look both sympathetic and critical, reminding him of the way McGonagall used to look at him just after he'd been disowned. Molly was capable of making him feel sixteen again and he hated to think about the boy he'd once been. It only reminded him that time in his life was over, the boy and his friends were gone, and neither would ever return.

Upon entering the kitchen, Sirius was greeted by various Order members, including Mundungus Fletcher, who sat alone in the corner sneaking sips from a flask tucked into his robes.

"Fancy a bit, Black?" he asked, giving the tarnished silver flask a shake. The liquid swished and hissed ominously.

"No thanks, mate," he declined. Knowing Dung, it was probably homemade firewhiskey.

Dung took another swig and his eyes began to water.

"That's a fine one, eh?" He gestured towards the door as he slid the flask back into his robes.

Sirius followed the older man's gaze and it fell on Kate, who was engaged in conversation with Dedalus Diggle. The small wizard was gesticulating excitedly while Kate nodded patiently and tried to hide her amusement.

"I guess," he answered, shrugging, "never really thought about it."

He'd taken an immediate dislike to Kate when he first met her years ago and though he was now reserving his opinion, waiting to see if she was as trustworthy as Remus seemed to think, he still couldn't see past what he didn't like.

"You've been cooped up too long, boy," he said, "if you never noticed." He glanced back towards Kate. "Too bad though."

Sirius turned his head and gave him a deadly glare. Mundungus had the sense to look away, shame-faced.

Kingsley, who had come in while they were talking, walked around the room, greeting people with a tip of his small hat and sat down next to Sirius.

"Sirius," he greeted, nodding.

"Kingsley."

Shacklebolt had always been a man of few words. Even as a boy he rarely spoke and Sirius couldn't remember hearing him as a boy as they sat in the Common Room or passed on the dormitory stairs. He only became acquainted with Kingsley when he was in sixth year and it seemed to Sirius, even then, his voice had had that deep, low timbre.

As they sat waiting for the meeting to begin, Molly came around the table, greeted Kingsley and set a few bottles of wine down in the middle with a wave of her wand. Another wave and a tray of glasses followed. She offered the Auror a glass but deliberately skipped Sirius and Fletcher.

"Where's Remus?" Molly asked, sounding concerned, as she poured the wine by hand.

Sirius stifled a smirk. Women tended to grow attached to Moony. James and Sirius used to tease their mate about his ability to tap into the mothering side of almost every woman he met. It seemed Molly was no different.

"Had some business at home," he said, "he should be back any minute."

As he said this, Remus entered the kitchen, followed closely by Dumbledore, who swept in looking serene. Instinctively, the small crowd began to shift around the room.

"Listen," Kingsley said, leaning close as Bill and Arthur sat down across from them, "I've been called into a meeting tomorrow morning with Scrimgeour and Fudge."

Sirius turned to look at him. "So?" he shot out, annoyed by the mention of the Head of the Auror Department's name.

"It's about you," Kingsley whispered evenly, ignoring his tone. "I was told to bring your file."

Sirius felt a tiny fount of hope well up inside his chest.

"Any idea?" he asked, trying to sound casual and failing.

Kingsley shook his head. If he noticed the break in Sirius' voice, he didn't let on.

"I'll let you know after the meeting."

He clapped him on the back, sat up straight and took a sip of wine, turning to talk to Arthur.

Sirius sat at the table, unsure how to feel. The news of the meeting told him nothing yet he felt that it had to mean something significant for him. He could feel the optimism everyone told him he should have bubbling like a tiny spring but it was tempered by pessimism twelve years in Azkaban for a crime you didn't commit was bound to produce.

He watched the others as they gathered around the table in small groups – Sophie, Tonks, and Hestia on the other side of the table, Molly, Emmaline and McGonagall in the middle, Dumbledore and Diggle beside them -- feeling oddly detached from the scene. Only Snape, who he hadn't noticed enter, sat alone looking uncomfortable, a sour scowl on his sallow face. Normally, the sight of the loathed wizard was enough to light the fire of rage inside him, but even Snivellus couldn't burst the lonely bubble around him.

Remus settled beside him a moment later, Kate by his side.

"How are things in Surrey?" he asked as Remus poured Kate a glass of wine.

He didn't really care about the answer to his question, he just needed to hear his friend's voice to know that he was real, alive and wasn't locked in his head, his body still rotting in the dark prison cell in the middle of the Black Sea.

"Quiet."

Sirius was bursting to tell him about the meeting, to hear what Remus had to say. If anyone could put things into perspective for him, or just assure him that things would be fine, it was Remus. But Kate was sitting on Remus' right, and Dung, on his left, was openly staring at the blonde lycan and there were entirely too many people in his parents' kitchen and none of it felt very real.

While Sirius sat slumped in his seat, disturbing thoughts in his head and wishing everyone gone (or at least that everyone but Moony was gone), Dumbledore cleared his throat and the meeting began.

**8888888**

Though Sophie had been looking forward to the meeting, it did not begin well for her. Making her way down to the kitchen from her bedroom above, she met up with Hestia on the cellar stairs and was forced to make conversation.

Hestia Jones took entirely too much pleasure in gossip for Sophie's liking. Her tidbits were usually harmless, stories about who was getting married, who was getting divorced, and which wizard of the wizarding world had been discovered in compromising positions with a house elf (or a goat, puffskein, blast-ended screwt...). They were usually harmless but Sophie, who had grown up keeping her secrets safely locked away, always imagined Hestia Jones talking to some faceless stranger about her and it made her slightly ill.

"…They say it was an accident, you know, but how many people would use an engorgement charm on a pixie?"

Sophie shook her head, mumbled an unintelligible response and, spotting Tonks, made a beeline for the junior Auror. Unfortunately, Hestia followed, happily chatting away, and settled down beside her.

"Wotcher," Tonks beamed, her hair a lovely shade of turquoise blue.

Despite her cheery greeting, she looked worn and tired.

"Long day?" Sophie asked. She always liked to hear about Tonks' Auror adventures.

"Long night," she answered distractedly then realized what she'd said and her eyes widened in embarrassment.

Sophie had the grace to ignore the implication but Hestia jumped on it.

"Ooh, really, Tonks, you _must_ spill. Who's the lucky wizard?"

Tonks flushed. "It's nothing like that! I was… working."

Hestia gave her a skeptical look but didn't have a chance to say anything more as Diggle came up beside them and engaged Hestia in conversation.

Tonks looked relieved and the two shared a look that seemed to say, "thank Merlin," though Sophie felt it was for entirely different reasons.

Tonks had a secret and Hestia had almost discovered it.

Sophie wondered briefly if any of the wizards in the room were as tired as Tonks seemed to be but was distracted by the appearance of her father, looking weary himself as he entered the kitchen, his worn winter cloak still draped over his shoulders. Though the moon had been a few weeks ago, her father, as usual, was still recovering from the aftereffects. Even so, he'd kept busy, taking on too much for the Order. She felt guilty, knowing that if it wasn't for her precarious status with the Ministry, she would be able to shoulder some of the burden. As it was, she wasn't much help.

Her father strode up to her, smiled and handed her a white square envelope.

"What's this?" she asked him, reaching out and taking it from his hand instinctively. She looked down and flipped the brilliant white square in her hands curiously. The paper felt smooth, expensive between her slender fingers.

"I went home for a few hours. Found it tucked into the kitchen window. Must have been there a few weeks."

He gave a quick glance behind him, gave her an apologetic look and turned and walked away to rescue Kate, who was still stationed by the door, now being grilled by Molly.

"Ooh," Hestia said excitedly, "looks like a wedding invitation."

As soon as she said this, Sophie's mind lurched to a stop and a sudden dread filled her.

"Is someone you know getting married?" Tonks asked, her voice seeming far away.

Sophie looked up for a fraction of a second and noticed Tonks looking towards the kitchen door as she spoke.

Sophie hedged a bit and answered, though with the loud beating of her heart drumming in her ears, she couldn't be sure what she said. The women beside her seemed satisfied with her answer and lost interest quickly, Tonks rising from her seat at the table and Hestia turning to chat with Molly, who'd been politely shunted off by her father. Sophie's long index finger slid beneath the lip of the envelope and broke the seal, and she pushed it up hastily, aware that her fingers were moving of their own volition as she pulled out a fancy square of parchment, her eyes tripping over the elegant typeset.

_Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar Meadows_

_Request the honor of your presence_

_at the marriage of their daughter  
_

_Lauren Abigail Meadows,_

_to_

_Tristan Edward Cates_

_at Barking Abbey, London  
_

_Saturday the thirteenth of January_

_twelve noon  
_

Sophie felt bile rise in her throat as she read the words, only half aware of a sharp huff of air escaping her lips. She felt a pair of eyes on her immediately and looked up to see Snape's black orbs fixed on her from across the table. Quickly fixing her features to feign disinterest, she slid the invitation back into its envelope and set it on the table, placing her hands over her name, written by hand, on the front.

The meeting began quickly after that, but Sophie was unaware of what was being said, barely recognizing the voices that sounded around her. She sat still, refusing to move her hands, willing the familiar, growling voice in her head to quiet and pushing down the myriad of emotions that threatened to rise up into her throat and cut off her breathing. She could feel those black orbs fixing on her every once in a while, cruel and curious, and she concentrated on looking immersed in the conversation around her. She heard her father's voice, her name and she nodded her head, which seemed satisfactory, then Kate's voice filled the air immediately after, her soft lilt soothing her a little though she was still too wound up to actually make out the words.

Soon, but not soon enough, the meeting was over and the members were moving around her, some already out the door, others lingering around the table. She looked around and was relieved to see that Snape had gone and that her father was busy introducing Kate to Professor McGonagall by the island of the galley kitchen. She stood up, willing her legs to move and slid through the small crowd towards the kitchen door. Once she was in the darkened stairwell that led up to the main floor, she broke into a wide, hurried stride, desperate to be alone.

The dark shadows that lingered in the main floor corridor seemed to follow her as she strode past the sleeping portrait. She needed to get out, she needed to scream, break something, anything to get her mind around the piece of parchment in her balled-up fist. She heard a creak of steps and sensed someone on the landing above. The scent, though faint, told her it was her reviled former professor, though what he was doing on the second floor she couldn't fathom, and at the moment didn't, frankly, care. She couldn't face anyone, afraid of her own emotions, so thinking quickly, she turned to the nearest door and quietly pushed her way in. She found herself standing in the dark study, her back pressed up against the thick mahogany door. _Calm down_, she told herself, _just calm down_. She breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly as she willed her mind to quiet. Her body seemed to relax and her fist unclenched around the envelope.

She couldn't believe it. Looking down, she realized she had to read it again.

Pulling out the invitation, she was aware that the envelope still felt thick. She ripped open the side hastily and found an RSVP card with an envelope to match and a thin, plain sheet of parchment folded in half. She couldn't conceive what it was, so she unfolded it and was stunned to find a short note written, like her name on the envelope, by hand.

_Dear Sophie, _it read_, I know this must come as a surprise to my fellow Gryffindors, and to you personally, to find that I am to marry a Slytherin. I assure you, Tristan is not the boy he seemed at Hogwarts. I know we weren't that close but I am hoping that my old schoolmates will come and support me. It would mean so much._

_Tristan has confessed to me that you and he had some problems in the past, stemming from that silly Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry. I hope you don't still hold it against him. He is eager to make amends and hopes, like I do, that you will join us on our special day and help celebrate our love. He was particularly adamant that I invite you and I do hope you can come. Please let me know._

_Sincerely,_

_Lauren_

Sophie felt her stomach lurch painfully and her head was filled with a hot, intense rage – the rage of the wolf – that threatened to crack her skull open and spill out.

She couldn't believe it. That bastard! That vile, sick fucking bastard!

Sophie felt suddenly dizzy and she took a few steps forward, desperate to reach the ivory chaise in the middle of the room. But her legs wouldn't carry her. Feeling a sharp wave of nausea, she dropped to the floor as her knees gave out and and began to sob uncontrollably.

**8888888**

Sirius stepped into the main floor corridor, his concerned grey eyes quickly scanning the space for any sign of Sophie. He'd noticed her odd behaviour during the meeting as she sat stock still looking like a pale tawny-haired statue. It was as if she, too, was wondering if it was all a dream. He'd glanced over to her every so often to see the same expression, the same unreadable look in her eyes and he noticed Snape doing the same. He wondered if Snape said something to upset her before the meeting but he couldn't remember seeing the greasy-haired git anywhere near her. When the meeting was over, he'd walked around to the other side of the room, had a quick word with Dumbledore and looked back around to find her seat empty, the kitchen door just swinging shut. Even though he wasn't Padfoot at the moment, he instinctively knew something was wrong, so he followed her.

Now, as he looked up through the spiral of the grand staircase, he caught a muffled sound coming from behind a door. Willing his canine senses to work, he listened carefully and heard it again, muffled but distinct. He quickly realized it had come from his father's study and, hesitating for a second at the door, he quietly turned the knob and pushed the door in just enough to slip through the crack and shut it soundlessly behind him. He was more than a little shocked to see Sophie on the floor, hunched over and on her knees, her lithe, slender body racked with sobs.

"Sophie?" he whispered hesitantly. He knew she would hate to be seen like this but he felt he had to do something.

Startled, she spun around, jumping to her feet and crashing to the floor once more. Shocked, he bolted to her side and managed to grab an arm and cushion the fall but she immediately pulled and scrambled away, knocking over an antique lamp from the desk and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Just go!" she breathed, her low, growling voice broken by a hicough. The sound of it, though barely a whisper, was more shocking than anything else.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently.

She looked at him wildly, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for a way to escape. She stifled a sob and made an anguished sound.

Sirius approached her cautiously, wishing more than ever that Remus was there, and trying to think of some way to calm her down. He had some experience with emotional women, none of it he'd ever want to repeat. He realized that with Sophie he was out of his element. Dealing with Remus' mood swings growing up had been trying enough, he couldn't fathom how to handle an over-emotional teenage lycan.

"Sophie," he cooed softly as he neared her.

Sophie darted to the other end of the room and continued to sob, her breathing hitched and erratic.

"I need…" she began and struggled to control herself enough to speak, "I need.. to get… out of... of here."

He could see the effort it was taking her not to fall apart and he nodded silently, took her arm gently (which she, surprisingly, allowed) and steered her towards the door. He opened the door a fraction and, peeking out into the empty corridor, beckoned her forward. He pulled out his wand to shut the door as quietly as possible when he spied a torn envelope lying where Sophie had been kneeling on the rug. Without much thought, he silently accioed the envelope and its contents and slipped them into his back pocket. Sophie, trembling in front of him, took no notice, her eyes darting up towards the second landing. Still holding her by the arm, he pulled her towards the front door, feeling her trembling body under his touch as they slid out into the quiet street.

"Where to?" he whispered, still holding her and acutely aware of her irregular breathing as they stood in the cold dark of night, still cloaked by the charms on the house on the front steps.

"Home," she breathed, "the woods."

He nodded and circled his arms around her protectively, feeling her shudder against him, and Disapparated from the steps just as the front door creaked open.

**8888888**

Sophie broke free from Sirius' tight grip with little effort as soon as her feet hit the frozen earth of her familiar haunt. The looming trees that usually blotted out the light from the full moon were doing their best to blot out the stars, the moon only a sliver in the sky and hidden behind the thick canopy of gnarled branches thick with snow. Sophie stumbled away, desperate to gain physical distance from him as her limbs began to burn in their familiar way, a sure sign she was about to lose control.

"What is it?" she heard him utter, his voice tight, "What happened?"

She turned towards him as her body began to convulse, the familiar sensation of fear and exhilaration coming over her, a triumphant howl filling her head. She knew what was happening. The wolf was provoked and in a murderous rage. Some part of her admitted, as she fought the feeling, that she was letting it happen. Tristan Cates had violated her once, and now, he was mocking her. She wasn't going to let him get away with it this time; she wasn't going to let him do it again. But another part of her, the part that felt guilt and remorse and shame, struggled in vain to stop what was happening.

_No_, she told herself. _You can't do it. You can't let it happen._ _I won't let you_.

But the wolf was winning out.

**8888888**

Sirius stood watching in horror as Sophie groaned and huffed. He knew what the jerky movements meant, the anguished whimpers, the stifled screams. But this wasn't his mate, this was his mate's daughter before him, and even though the full moon had been a few weeks ago, it was happening again – the transformation.

He'd seen this before, though not quite like this, that night almost two years ago, when Sophie followed him into the Shrieking Shack and partially transformed before his eyes. There was no full moon in the sky that night either and he'd wondered about her lycan abilities since then, being born a werewolf instead of bitten. As he watched, mesmerized and alarmed, he heard his own imploring voice begging for an explanation. But no explanation came, only a few pleading words.

"What... whatever happens," she gasped, "whatever you have...have to do – _Stop me_."

Dropping to her hands and knees in a murky patch of snow, Sophie began to change before his eyes, her anguished, unrestrained shrieks echoing through the little patch of woods. Her back rose in a deep, unnatural hunch and her clothing ripped and fell away in pieces as every inch of scarred ivory skin sprang thick tufts of honey-coloured fur, and the loud, gruesome cracking of bones mingled with her anguished wails. He only had a few seconds to react and some part of him, the part that always sprang to life in times of trouble, formed a plan and he acted on it.

He turned and ran to a tall tree, its trunk thick and knotted, branches wide and bent high off the ground. Scrambling, he pulled off all his clothes, including his shoes, waved his wand and they packed together in a neat little package. Then he slipped his wand between his trousers and his shirt, which he knew, despite transformation, would be ripped to shreds if he kept them on, and sent the package into the tree with wandless magic. Before he turned around to face the wolf that now snarled and closed the short distance between them, he transformed into Padfoot.

He was immediately knocked to the ground as the wolf heaved its large, lean muscular body onto his equally formidable canine form and snapped its jaw, sharp, bared teeth sinking into the scruff of his neck. He yelped and struggled free, the pain sharpening his senses, and he became acutely aware of the unsuppressed rage that emanated from the beast. He also knew the wolf wasn't interested in him, had only attacked because it smelled a human, and it backed away and turned towards the clearing.

It suddenly occurred to Sirius exactly what Sophie had meant.

'_Stop me_.'

He bounded after her lycan form and leapt on its back, digging his claws into flesh as the wolf bucked, attempting to throw him off. The vicious snarl turned into a pained growl and the wolf attacked once more. Padfoot leapt to his paws, ready this time, and bounded towards it, colliding with a sickening thud in midair and dropping to the frosty ground.

Sirius, the man, was only too aware of the pain that his animagus form was being subjected to as the wolf, unrelenting, came at him again and again, intent on leaving the woods and angry that this large black shaggy dog was trying to thwart its progress. Padfoot managed to lead the wolf deeper into the woods and he found himself at the edge of the frozen pond.

The wolf attacked again and Padfoot had no choice. He allowed the wolf to sink its teeth into the bottom half of his jaw and together they tumbled onto the thin sheet of ice. Padfoot felt the cold glassy sheet shift and crack as they slid to the center of the pond. He scrambled to his paws once more, intent on bounding back towards shore and safety but the wolf would not relent. It snapped its jaw and growled then leapt onto Padfoot once again. The sudden jarring and weight was too much for the thin slick ice. A loud crack echoed through the woods as the ice opened up under their paws and Padfoot and the wolf tumbled into the dark, murky water.

* * *

To be continued...:)

The next chapter should be up within the week (seriously!) as it's 90 written.

Hope you enjoyed it!


	21. Chapter 21: Come Undone

**A/N**: Thanks to _fireboltcrazed_ for your review. I appreciate it:D Not beta'd, so I apologize if there are any glaring errors.

**Disclaimer:** Not JKR. Not even close. Just borrowing.

**Chapter 21**: Come Undone

Padfoot had braved many things. He'd braved a young werewolf when he himself was a young (though fully grown) pup, new to the world as an animagus; he'd braved acromantulas and centaurs and other creatures in the Forbidden Forest – creatures that did not take kindly to three animagi and a werewolf invading their home and using it once a month as their playground. Padfoot had even braved a dozen years alongside Dementors, feeling the icy cold trickle of fear that, while muted, still settled uncomfortably over him whenever they came near. He'd braved icy waters, too. Deep, black, icy waters that stung every canine limb, searing white-hot to his very bones, as he paddled to shore and freedom one summer night not that long ago. Padfoot remembered the piercing coldness. It was nothing like the icy chill of the pond, which was uncomfortable nonetheless, but Padfoot, like Sirius, knew that he would be able to swim to the surface easily because he had braved worse.

The wolf was another matter.

Padfoot felt the wolf struggling beside him as the murky waters enclosed them its biting embrace, squeezing out air from lungs; felt its paws scrabble against his hind legs, desperate for purchase. He felt it panic as he tried to grip the scruff of its neck with his jaw, bucking and rearing as they sunk lower, the beast wild and angry. As soon as they hit the bottom, Padfoot broke free and the wolf, which was quickly losing its struggle for air, went limp. The animagus took his chance, biting the thick furry scruff. Limbs numb and heavy, he propelled them both to the surface. As soon as they broke the icy surface, the wolf began to struggle to breathe. The cold biting air filled Padfoot's lungs and stung but he ignored the pain and paddled back to the edge of the pond, and the wolf clambered onto the bank and dropped into the snow.

Padfoot dropped his cold, wet, furry body beside it, struggling to breathe and shivering wildly. Somewhere in his canine mind he knew what he needed to do but his body would not respond as quickly. He lay for a moment unable to move, then the large black dog struggled unsteadily to his paws and approached the wolf cautiously.

The wolf's limbs twitched and its side heaved up and down, but the fight that had been in it was gone. Padfoot whimpered and nudged the wolf and it responded with a whimper of its own. Then, before his canine eyes, the wolf began to shudder and its limbs began to crack as the fur receded, revealing pale white skin, and the young woman appeared.

Sophie lay, naked and bleeding, curled up on a patch of frozen earth before him, her chest heaving, soft whimpers escaping her pale lips. Padfoot bounded away instantly, towards the tree and transformed, accio'ed his wand and clothing and quickly pulled on his trousers and shoes, ignoring the stinging in his limbs and the biting chill in the air around them. He ran back to where Sophie lay, and wrapped his shirt around her, then gently lifted her into his arms.

The cottage was close by, so he ran through the woods to the clearing, rapping himself on the head to Disillusion himself and the injured woman in his arms as he stepped out of the trees. Sophie moaned, tiny sobs escaping her dry, cracked lips as he ran down the lane to the end where the Lupin family cottage stood, dark and empty and safe.

**8888888**

Remus looked around the room for his daughter but found that she was gone. In his haste to shore up details of his next assignment, he'd stopped to talk to the others even though it was Sophie he'd needed to speak to. During the meeting, though he had barely looked her way, he'd known that something was wrong; he'd felt it. The feeling had come over him in soft, lapping waves, so subtle he barely noticed. It wasn't until the meeting was over that the sudden absence of it alerted him.

"Have you seen Sophie?" he asked Tonks, who was lingering by the door.

She smiled. "Left as soon as the meeting was over," she said. "Would you like me to help you find her?"

Remus felt a pair of eyes on the back of his head from across the room. "She's probably up in her room," he answered, "I'll just go up and find her myself." His words were not unkind, though they had a definite air to them.

Remus pushed the door open slowly and as he passed, he whispered more warmly, "Perhaps you could check the Drawing Room."

Tonks made no sign that she had heard but he knew that he would find her there, if the last month between them had been any indication.

He headed into the main floor corridor and up to the next landing, where he was startled as he bumped into Severus coming down the stairs and looking disconcertingly smug.

"Is there something you were looking for Severus?" he asked, surprised to see him still in the house.

"You borrowed a book. I needed it back."

Snape held up a battered copy of A Compendium of Poisons, which he'd leant him for research.

"Of course."

He wondered what had come over the Potions master. He had never dared venture farther into the house than necessary, yet he'd taken it upon himself to head upstairs to the Drawing Room, where the antique desk was piled with books and parchments for research on Dumbledore's behalf, and chance another confrontation with Sirius. Or perhaps that was just what he had been looking for.

"Do you mind?"

Remus realized he was standing in Snape's way.

"Oh," he said, stepping aside, "Sorry."

Snape didn't move.

"Looking for your little friend?" Snape asked silkily.

Remus didn't like the look on his face. It was entirely too satisfied.

"No, actually. I'm looking for my daughter."

At this, Snape smiled, though it looked more like a sneer.

"Well, I daresay you find one, you'll find the other."

"Is that so?" Remus threw out casually, wondering at once where this conversation was going. If Snape was looking happy, he knew it didn't bode well for him.

Instead of explaining himself, Snape made a gesture towards the corridor below, just beyond the banister, which was visible from their spot on the turn of the stairs.

Remus turned around in time to see the top of Sirius' head pass, and he leaned over and caught the sight of Sophie beside him. He watched, confused, as they stopped at the front door and quickly slipped out.

Together.

His stomach lurched with panic. What was Sirius doing, stepping outside of the house? Was he mad? What was Sophie doing with him? Where were they going and why? All of these questions raced through his head before he his body reacted and he bounded down the stairs.

He reached the door and pulled it open just as Sirius and Sophie Disapparated with a tiny pop and he found himself staring into the dark, empty lamp-lit street.

**8888888**

The tiny bathroom in Lupin cottage gleamed bright under the candlelit sconces, white tiles reflecting the warm glow though in truth the room was almost as cold as outdoors. Sirius cast a warming spell and room quickly heated to a more comfortable temperature. It was then that he finally settled Sophie down onto a bed of towels strewn hastily on the floor.

She was shaking, teeth chattering and lips almost blue, her slight body cold to the touch. Thinking quickly, Sirius waved his wand over her, assessing injuries and casting a special warming spell over her that he'd learned in fifth year after Peter fell through the ice on the lake in school and had to be rushed to Madame Pomfrey's with hypothermia. It had been a frightening incident and Sirius, who couldn't fathom losing a friend, had pestered the Healer until she taught him how to cast the advanced Healer-trained spell. After that day, Sirius had made it his business to learn advanced spells, secretly researching healing texts in the library, determined to know all he could, just in case. That knowledge came back to him now, as he raked his grey eyes over the young woman on the floor.

Draping another towel over her gently, he drew her a lukewarm bath, then helped her sit up on the soft bed of towels.

Sophie, though still shivering, was alert and responsive. There were angry red welts all over her body where her skin had torn to accommodate the change and fused together when she changed back, and her face was streaked with dirt and dried tears.

"You need to get warm," he told her. He noted she needed to clean up as well.

She looked up at him as he sat perched on the edge of the bathtub, but didn't respond. He was thrown by the look in her eyes, which were almost vacant, like she'd given up. It pained him to see her like that, the quietly vibrant girl who'd stood up to him only a few months ago.

Sirius stood, took her hands in his and gently pulled her up. She complied but stood there unmoving, unresponsive to his soft-spoken words.

He realized she must be in shock, though her eyes moved around the room and her lids blinked back what he was sure were fresh tears.

"Sophie," he whispered, "you need to get in the bath. You have mild hypothermia. This will make you feel better."

He ignored the sting in his own limbs as her eyes, round and ominously dark, locked with his but she still said nothing.

"Your father must have noticed us both gone by now. He'll come looking for you. You don't want him to find you like this, do you?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Realizing she wouldn't be able to do it herself, "I'll help you," he said.

He waited for her reaction but she didn't respond. Hesitating, he waved his wand and charmed a towel from the floor so that it seemed to be held up by invisible hands between them and reached around it, pushing his shirt, which was unbuttoned, off her shoulders slowly. She let the shirt fall to the floor.

"You need to get into the tub," he said.

She didn't move.

Holding back a sigh, he placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her into the tub. She moved only when he prodded her but she lifted one foot then the other into the warm water and lowered herself in, pulling her knees up to her chest in the same position she'd been in on the floor.

The towel fell and Sirius, averting his eyes, reached for the bottle of shampoo, then hesitated once more before pouring the sweet-smelling liquid into the palm of his hand. She flinched a little when he touched the top of her head but didn't move again while he massaged, shampooed and rinsed her hair. Then he took the washcloth in hand, rubbed it against a bar of soap and gently rubbed the dirt off her shoulders, moving around and washing her back, her arms, as she sat immobile and quiet. He moved around the other end of the tub and slowly reached into the water. She allowed him to gently lift her leg and he rubbed away the dirt from the dirty soles of her feet then quickly washed her leg then repeated it with the other. He noticed the flow of tears had stopped and her breathing was less erratic as he dipped the washcloth into the clean water (the dirty water disappearing in the charmed tub) and rinsed the soap from her skin. All the while Sirius tried not to think too much about what he was doing, hurrying the task without moving too quickly and alarming her, but anxious to get her cleaned-up, dressed and resting just in case Remus showed up.

His thoughts turned exclusively to his mate as he performed the task, feeling oddly detached. He didn't know what he would tell his friend about the events that had transpired in the woods – he wanted to spare his mate the anguish of what he'd witnessed and he didn't want Remus to see his daughter in this state. There was also a hint of self-preservation in his motives. He had a feeling Remus would be very uncomfortable with what Sirius was doing at the moment, despite what he'd done in the woods to help.

When he finished, he cast a few spells to check that the hypothermia had subsided. Satisfied that it would be safe to take her out of the bath, he charmed the towel once more and took Sophie by the hands, pulling her out of the water just as he'd prompted her to stand from the floor. She rose and stepped out of the tub, never letting go of his hands and the towel wrapped around her, tucking under her arms like a sarong. He led her out into the small corridor and into her bedroom, then dug in the cupboard and chest of drawers for something for her to wear. He pulled out a white cotton eyelet nightgown that was torn and frayed at the hem and sensible pair of knickers, also white cotton. He felt the urgency to get her dressed, imagining Moony bursting through the door at any moment, and held the clothes out to her. She didn't move.

Frustrated but trying not to let it show, he groaned inwardly as he waved his wand, blasting her with a drying spell and attempted to untangle her hair and then turned his head as he slipped her arms, one by one, into the nightgown and pulled it over her head, the towel dropping to her feet. The knickers, he realized, would be another problem. It occurred to him as he bent down and held them out and she stepped into them – slowly and at his prodding – that he'd been in the reverse of this position many times before but never imagined, in all his years, that he would be helping a woman put her knickers _on_. Even in this situation, anxious and fraught with pain and confusion, the irony wasn't lost on him.

It only took a few steps and a small push to get her under the faded coverlet on her single bed, but she held tightly to his hands and her eyes seemed to plead with him not to leave her alone. Feeling his throat constrict as the emotion she'd been stifling poured into her large, childlike orbs, he sat down beside her on the edge, and gently pulled a hand free. "It's okay," he breathed, stroking her hair with his free hand like he imagined Remus had done countless times, "You're safe." Soon her eyes were fluttering and more quickly than he imagined possible, she was asleep.

He sat, unmoving, on the edge of her bed, as she clung to him unconsciously. He watched her sleep, her eyes moving rapidly beneath the purple lids, and he imagined that she was playing some horror over and over in her head.

Sirius waited until her hand became slack in his to leave the room. He went directly into the bathroom, spelled away her bathwater and refilled the tub. Stripping off his clothes, he sunk into the lukewarm water and immediately felt the chill that had become permanently housed in his bones from the time his body hit the icy pond, slowly dissipate along with the panic and fear. All that was left in his head were questions.

**8888888**

Remus continued to stare into the night, his mind reeling with questions until he felt the door slip from his fingers as Snape pushed it closed and came round to face him.

Remus shot a look down the end of the corridor, where the door to the kitchen was softly creaking open and not wanting to let on that there was anything wrong, he quickly pushed Snape into the front parlour, cast a silencing charm and shut the door.

"What did you do?" he accused.

Snape's thin brow shot up. "Me? What would I have to do with Black leaving?"

Remus glared at him. He seemed to almost flinch.

"I assure you, I have nothing to do with your friend's foolish antics."

Remus wasn't sure but it felt like the truth.

"I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself," he said finally, imagining that Severus would go straight to Dumbledore's office the minute he returned to Hogwarts.

Snape appraised him with cold black eyes. "You're not worried, then, that Black leaving here against Dumbledore's orders may have put the whole Order in jeopardy?"

"No," he answered firmly, though he didn't believe it, "I'm certain he'll be back very soon." The cold eyes threatened to bore into him. "He can't have gone far."

"And your daughter?"

Remus' jaw clenched of its own accord. "What about her?"

"You're not worried that being with Black puts her life in jeopardy?"

"Sirius would never do anything to risk my daughter's life," he answered defensively.

His harsh tone made Snape smirk. "Then perhaps you should be worried about her virtue," Snape added, still smirking, "unless some lucky little Gryffindor's already taken care of – "

Remus did not remember lifting his arm from his side, but suddenly his fist slammed into the side of Severus' face. Snape stumbled backwards, catching himself before falling to the ground and he whipped his wand out just as the door flew open.

"Oi!" came a sharp cry as a jet of red light cracked through the room and Severus' wand flew out of his hand.

"There'll be no hexing here," Tonks said with an authoritative tone Remus had never heard before. Her eyes fell over the livid bruise that already decorated the side of Severus' face. "What in bloody Merlin's gotten into the both of you?"

Snape narrowed his eyes, simmering with quiet rage. "None of your business," he said with a sneer, "now hand me my wand and I will be on my way."

Tonks shot a quizzical glance at Remus but he quickly looked away in shame. She hesitatingly held out Snape's wand and he snatched it out of her hand as he bolted from the room and, as was his habit, slammed the front door behind him a moment later. But this time, the inevitable hollering that followed never came.

"Would you like to tell me – " Tonks began as Kate entered the room.

"Is this a habit, then?" Kate asked, her deep blue eyes falling on Remus the moment she stepped into the room, "You and your mate take it in turn to duel with that man?"

"It was nothing."

"Right," she muttered, then turned her icy gaze to Tonks, "It's a good thing you were here, to save these silly boys from themselves." Remus knew that biting tone well. Before Tonks could respond, she turned her intense stare back on Remus. "Just tell me one thing," she breathed, moving closer, her face coming inches from his, "did he deserve it?"

Remus huffed in answer, all too aware of the uncomfortable air that had settled over the room and Tonk's grey eyes flitting from him to Kate.

"Thought so."

Kate smiled, looking both innocent and devious in the way only she could manage, and stepped away. "Well, then," she said, her voice returning to its normal range, "I think I'll go up to bed." She turned and walked the short distance to the door, then paused as she opened it. "Is Sophie in her room? I wanted to say goodnight."

"She's gone out," he replied evenly, surprised that he sounded so calm.

"Oh. Guess I won't." She flashed Tonks a smile, and left the room.

Remus and Tonks stood quietly in the parlour for a moment, listening as the floorboards creaked from above before either one attempted to speak.

Sirius left," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What?" gasped Tonks.

"With Sophie," he added, finally fixing his hazel eyes on her. "I need to find them."

She nodded and headed for the door. "Let's go."

**8888888**

Sirius didn't linger in the tub very long. He didn't want Sophie to awaken suddenly and find herself alone. He knew what it felt like to wake up from a nightmare only to find that it was real and that you were all alone in it.

He dried off and padded softly to Remus' room, digging in the mostly-bare cupboard for some clean clothes. He found a pair of grey slacks that looked a few decades old though they were well-cared for, a plain white oxford he suspected Remus had last worn years ago, judging by the musty odour, a pair of patched briefs and a mismatched pair of darned socks. Pulling them on, he felt a pang of pity at the sad state of his mate's wardrobe, which only added to the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He debated contacting Remus, but something stopped him. It was late, and if Remus hadn't already realized they were gone, he might not notice until morning. He didn't feel much like explaining, as he would only be able to tell his mate what had happened but not why, and he felt like he needed to assess Sophie's mental state before doing anything definitive. No, he thought, I'll just have to wait.

Sirius went back to the bathroom to tidy up, picking all the towels off the floor and trying his hand at laundering spells. For the most part, they worked, only failing to erase the dark outline of Sophie's muddy footprints. He then collected the wet, cold clothes off the floor. It was then that he remembered the envelope. Fumbling in the pocket of his trousers, he found it. It was caked with dirt, smeared with blood, half-torn, wet and wadded but still legible.

Forgetting the pile of clothes by his feet, he sat once more on the edge of the tub and carefully flattening each sheet of paper, he began to read.

**8888888**

Remus hadn't been sure where he was going when he left headquarters, but an hour later he realized trying to find two people in a city as large as London was a fruitless effort. Still, Tonks, who no doubt had known that from the start, had been sweet enough to tag along and help him search the handful of places he thought Sirius might go, no questions asked.

Outside the gates of a park by the Thames, Remus and Tonks conceded defeat.

"We might as well head back," she suggested, "just in case they're already there."

Remus knew that she might be right, but something told him he wouldn't find his daughter at Grimmauld Place when he returned.

"Did Sophie seem strange tonight?" he asked, settling onto a low cement barrier by the park entrance.

Tonks' eyes raked over his face, as if she was seeing him for the first time. "To tell the truth, I wasn't really paying attention." She flushed a little and her eyes were tinged green.

Had he not been worried about Sophie and Sirius (and still feeling unsettled by Snape's suggestion), he might have given more thought to the odd behaviour, but preoccupied as his mind was at the moment, he just brushed it away.

"I just feel like, " he began and paused, weary of saying too much, "I feel like there was something wrong."

Tonks sat down beside him, her head coming just above his shoulders and her feet dangling slightly off the ground. Well, let's see," she began, screwing her face up in concentration, "she came into the kitchen with Hestia, they sat down and we talked." She paused as if recalling some part of the conversation, but if she remembered she didn't share. "Then you came in and gave her a letter, she read it and the meeting began."

Remus was struck at once by what she said. "The letter," he whispered in dawning comprehension.

Tonks turned her head, her face half-hidden by shadow. "Do you know who it was from?" she asked.

Remus recalled the name in the corner, which reminded him of something he'd read recently in the _Daily Prophet_, some useless bit of information he'd picked up and stored in his head.

"Remus?"

He quickly put the facts together and came up with an incomplete answer. There was something missing, some fact that was out of his grasp – something only Sophie knew.

"Are you alright?"

Remus forced himself to look at Tonks just as he realized something. "I know where they are."

Her eyes were light and searching and he could see she was truly concerned, if a little skeptical. It was madness, he realized, that he would suddenly proclaim to know his daughter and his best mate's whereabouts after searching aimlessly for over an hour.

"Where?"

He sighed, thinking of what he might find, dreading the answer to the question slowly forming in his mind, and hoping he was wrong about what that missing fact might be.

"Home," he said, "the cottage."

He expected Tonks to jump up and lead the charge to his house, though it wasn't necessarily what he wanted. When she didn't, he noticed the look of reservation on her face.

"What makes you think they're there?" she asked, her fingers clamping firmly round his wrist.

Remus looked down at her hand then back at her. "A hunch," he answered, not wanting to explain any further.

"You're probably wrong," she said quickly, standing up and stepping in front of him, "there's no way Sirius would do that to you – "

"Tonks!" he interrupted just as quickly as he realized just what she was thinking, "if Sophie was upset, that's the first place she'd go."

Tonks looked a little relieved. "Oh," she said, her hand falling away, "upset."

"What did you think – "

"Nothing!" she squeaked, looking sheepish. "Maybe you should lead the way." She looked at him expectantly.

"I can go by myself," he began, "there's no need – "

"Nonsense! I'm coming," she exclaimed, then realized she sounded pushy. "I mean, if Sophie's upset, maybe I can help…"

Remus smiled, despite his growing worry. Tonks always managed to be endearing in her sincerity. It was what he liked most about her.

"Thank you," he said, though he wasn't sure it was a good idea for Tonks to tag along. "I'd like that."

Tonks took his hand and led him cover, where they Disapparated from the cold London night to the edge of the woods by the Lupin cottage.

**8888888**

Sirius wasn't sure how long he sat on the edge of the chipped, white tub, clinging to the letter in his hands, the rest of the papers discarded like scattered leaves on a forest floor. By the third time he'd read the note, he was sure he knew why Sophie had been so upset.

With his own eyes he'd witnessed what Tristan Cates was capable of, and in his own way he'd tried to stop him, though he doubted he'd done much to change anything, except maybe give the Slytherin a limp.

What he didn't know were the details – what the evil bastard had done to Remus' daughter to cause a reaction so strong, so dangerous, so out-of-control, because it was obvious to him that _something_ had happened. It was obvious that Sophie had been hurt in some way.

Thinking back to the scene in the back of Hagrid's garden, he began to form scenarios in his mind and had to stop himself before he, too, was tearing through the dark, cold winter night to hunt down Tristan Cates.

* * *

The next chapter should be up very soon... hope you liked it!


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